


No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye), t0bemadeofglass



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Side Pairings, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Complete, F/M, Flirting, Food Porn, Minor Violence, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, vampire!Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6823669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye, https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Natasha, head waitress and barista extraordinare, gets a visit from a new client at SHIELD Cafe, the last thing on her mind is that he’s anything different. Certainly, he’s paler than she is, and hardly eats anything when he comes in, but that doesn’t mean he’s something other than human. Does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was a bit of a bear to write, but overall we're super, super pleased with the result. Apologies for the long, singular fic, we were considering splitting it up into chapters but given the varying lengths figured what the hell, might as well just post it all as one!   
> Many thanks go out to Wolves_and_Girls for reading over it and letting us know when Loki was being angsty and a dweeb, or still a dweeb, but acceptable. We're really hoping you like it! No spoilers for Civil War in this, so no worries if you haven't seen it yet, and there will be a second part . . . though it might not be for awhile. It will be coming, though! 
> 
> Thanks again! Title comes from Work Song by Hozier. 
> 
> [based on this pic spam](http://futurerustfuture-dust.tumblr.com/post/128868079277/trope-smash-vampire-coffee-shop-au)

The only thing that would have made the autumn evening utterly complete would have been a rainstorm. But the night was clear, no clouds to mar the thin stretch of sky that Loki could make out above the lit up skyscrapers. He didn’t detect a whiff of ozone, or of a storm to match his rotten mood, and more was the pity. The streetlights blazing on either end of the sidewalk made seeing the stars close to impossible, even with his clear vision, and the sheer volume of people in the sidewalk cafes and bars weren’t doing near as good a job at distracting him from the rather macabre turn his thoughts had started to take as of late. Still, he wasn’t allowed to wallow completely, else he’d run into someone opposite him on the sidewalk, each of them too wrapped up in their minds to pay any attention to what the other was doing. 

What was the good of a walk, though, if all he was doing was concentrating on the negativity that pooled around him since his conception? Just earlier that evening he’d forced himself out of his apartment to get some fresh air, to try and pull himself back together, but instead the awful sinking feeling in his gut had followed him like a rabid dog. Truthfully, he knew he ought not have been surprised. After all, once he’d lived well past his 1200th birthday, what more was there to think of? What could he possibly have not thought of beforehand to keep him from seeing the darker side of things? 

And that was just it, wasn’t it? Loki was old, far too old for the foolishness of hope and desire, even if he couldn't help but still wish for _something_ different. Hiding away for decades hadn't helped his situation, not in the way that he hoped it would, and it had ill suited him. He wasn't meant to cower and hide, wasn't meant to downplay the brilliance he could display. He’d not moved to the States to scratch a living beneath the surface and dwell only in the shadows. As fate would have it drawing attention to himself hadn’t served him in the past, either. It tended to lead to jokes made at his expense, snide remarks about his so called intelligence from his brother’s friends. His friends, supposedly. He had a short temper for such things nowadays. He wouldn't tolerate the scorn of his lessers, and he refused to fall into the role that was cast for him. Namesake or not, he was more than what others thought of him.

His shoulder clashed with that of an oncoming business man, whose scowl evaporated upon seeing the murderous look in Loki’s eye. “S-sorry,” the man stammered, his eyes blown wide in fear as his heart began to race. Even surrounded by dozens of other warm bodies Loki could hear his own singular pulse quicken, could smell the apprehension and terror that prey experienced in the presence of someone far closer to the top of the food chain than themselves. Loki had never known the sensation, and basked in it as a drowning man would a pocket of fresh air. It didn’t last as long as Loki would’ve liked, the man turning on his heel and hurrying on his way with a new pep in his step. Standing stock still, Loki watched as the figure turned back just the one time more, his mouth still parted in pantomime of an apology, before disappearing around the bend. 

Without any further appearances to keep up, Loki deflated. All he could think was that he was getting far too old for this. 

He hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten to his home in the meanwhile, just a couple dozen paces away from the front of his apartment complex, and still with more than a handful of hours left until daylight. It wasn’t the realization that shook him from the stupor he’d been wading around in, however. Just across the street was a commotion at the front door of the restaurant, one which had only just recently risen to fame in the New York Times and Bon Apetit, if the signs in the front windows were to be believed. Even given that it was a Sunday evening the place looked to be nearly packed to the gills A tall man, slim with dark hair and dark eyes and a smarmy smile, was being shoved out of the door. "--didn't ask you to come in, and we sure as hell don't want you back," the redhead woman doing the shoving snarled at him. 

Wait, what?

Doing a double take, Loki watched a petite redhead dressed in slacks and a blouse give the dark haired man another shove out of the door, clearly stronger than she looked given her small stature. Her apron was embroidered with the restaurant's name, and so was clearly an employee. Her green eyes all but spit fire, and the man raised his hands at her. 

"It's not your decision to make is it, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice trying to ooze charm. He got away with it, too, if his smile said anything. "If Skye’s got a thing for me then maybe you're just jealous." He let one hand fall to her arm, stroking it. He winked. "There's enough of me to go around. I'll make time for you, too."

The waitress grabbed his arm and twisted it sharply. The smile slid off the man's face as he fell to his knees, and she quickly bent it backward behind him, until the man's head was practically at the cement step. Her voice held all the power of an avalanche and was just as cold. "I'll say this once, Ward, so you'd better listen up. _Do not_ come back. Ever. You aren't nearly as good looking as you think you are. You disgust everyone in here every time you open your mouth. Skye included. Melinda would love to simply punch you in the throat and be done with it." She pulled harder on his arm when he started to say something in response, leaving him to shout. "And me? You're lucky I'm going to leave you alive. Got it?"

The man named Ward said something that didn't quite carry across the street, even with Loki's enhanced hearing, though it didn’t keep him from leaning forward as though it would help. The waitress pulled on his arm one more time, making him cry out, and she kicked his the back of his right knee as she let go of his arm. "This is me being nice, Ward. Don't piss me off."

"Jesus Christ, I should press charges," Ward whined, rubbing his arm with his other one. His voice set Loki’s teeth on edge.

"Who would come to your defense?" the waitress asked, a smirk on her lips.

Not one passerby even bothered to make eye contact with Ward. That was New York City for you. Ward tried pointing at Loki, saying "Him!" but Loki was already looking away from the scene. 

The redhead laughed, the sound scratchy and enticing even at the expense of the other man. "You're pathetic," she told Ward. "Get out of here while you can still walk."

From the corner of his eye Loki watched as Ward left, a hobble in his right knee. The redhead made sure he got to the corner okay before heading back inside.

Well, he had a few hours to kill, and they were guaranteed to have at least one table empty, now. Intrigued, Loki looked both ways, then crossed the street to follow her in. This was far more interesting than the turn his thoughts had taken, and it wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

As he’d seen from the outside, the restaurant was nearly entirely full up. Soft music filtered from above head speakers, and at the very front was a bar, a slew of coffee varieties and different drinks, ranging from cold to hot, basic to ridiculously complicated (who needed half a dozen different shots of flavor in one drink as well as three sorts of toppings?), all written on the chalkboard back wall just behind the cashier, a curvy woman with dark black hair and thick rimmed glasses. She brightened to see Loki. 

“Just one today?” she asked, picking up a menu and stepping out from behind the till. 

“Yes, thank you. I’ve never actually been here to . . .” He looked at the front of the menu in her hands. “SHIELD. What do you recommend?”

“Well, depends on what you’re in the mood for. You hungry, or thirsty?” she asked, her head tipping to the side as she shifted her weight from one foot to the next. Her gaze swept up over him, taking him in inch by inch. He wasn’t the only thirsty one, and he felt his teeth start to elongate. Huh. She was cute, he had to say. Exuberant, but attractive for certain. 

“Thirsty.” He smiled at his own joke, “but I’d like to see the inside of the restaurant if you have the room for me?” 

She nodded, and he watched as her pupils dilated ever-so slightly. “Sure thing, right this way, sir.” Her hips had a sway to them as she moved her way through the busy restaurant, the noise of couples and groups out to eat, the scent of food being steadily cut into and devoured, the strong scent of coffee and liquor, all assaulted him at the same time. He drank it in, enjoying the ambiance, the presence of warm bodies with hearts beating lulling him into a strange sort of bemused state. A wolf surrounded by sheep without any of them knowing the better. 

“Right here a-okay?” the woman said with an easy smile, her full lips painted bright red. He wondered what the color would look like spread across her lips, then across her throat--. 

Dammit, he needed to go and feed. 

He nodded, and thanked the woman when she sat him down with a wink and a sashay of her hips that held his attention, if only briefly. The redhead coming up to him with a glass of water quickly captured it again. Ah, he’d been hoping she would be his waitress, and the dark haired woman fled from his mind as he leaned back in his seat. He had to be on his best behavior, of course, after seeing what it was she’d done to the other man who’d fallen out of line before. He couldn’t help but wonder at just how strong she was, whether or not she’d try to bend him the way she had the imbecile of a man who’d irritated her before. It would be entertaining, if not enticing, to try had he not wanted to be on her good side. 

“Well, if it isn’t Ward’s supposed help.” Her voice was a lilting tease that had his spine straightening in an instant. 

“Yes, I couldn’t help but see that. Don’t worry, I had no intention of coming to his aid.” His smile was sincere, and she set the water down in front of him. 

“Good to hear. My name’s Natasha. Water okay to drink?” 

He nodded his head. “Yes, though I’m just looking to order another drink as well. Had a free evening and, well, with this much business it has to be good.” He shrugged off his long black coat, easing it over the back of his chair. His eyes met hers once again, watching how she her eyes kept surveying his own. Searching for something. He wondered what for. 

“Sure thing. Anything in particular you’re looking for?” One of her hands reached out to take his menu, flipping it over to the very back and dragging one of her long fingers down the spine as she read out the slew of different drinks. She moved to stand behind him, and the weight and heat of her body was intoxicating, to say nothing of the scent of her and the pulsating of her heart inches away from him. 

“I’m not so sure. I’ve never been a huge coffee drinker, but I can’t help but be tempted to try something new.” His chin tilted up and he caught her eyes narrowing in amusement. 

“Something, or someone?” Her voice carried a sarcastic lilt to it that spread his lips into a wide grin. “Well, something hot, or cold?”

“Hot, certainly.” He had half a mind to wink, but that cheek perhaps went over the top. “It’s getting rather chilly out there.”

“‘Bout time. The heat of the summer nearly killed me.” She leaned in again, her breasts pressed up against his shoulder as she bent over him, her breath warm on his cheek. As she gestured down the menu at some of her favorites Loki breathed slowly, fighting the desire to whip her around and take her then and there. Whether it was sex, or feeding, he didn’t care much, and he felt his fangs start to lengthen ever so slightly. He shut that thought down without any hesitation. 

“That last one, I’ll try it. Shield Dirty Chai,” he smiled up at her. Her eyes looked bluer this close, mostly around the ring, and he wondered if her lips were as soft as they looked. 

Without waiting she straightened and took his menu. “I’ll have that right up for you, sir.” 

There was something in the way she said it that made his bones relax as she walked away, his eyes following her every movement. He’d not met a woman as forthcoming as she was, as open and intriguingly opaque as she was turning out to be, in some time. Granted he didn’t meet a great deal of women, not having much use for pleasantries when he was looking for a quick bite and nothing more, but still. Had they been more like her, he might’ve been more eager to stick around. The woman at the bar had been interesting enough, but this Natasha? Fascinating. A lucky, fortuitous ray of light in the dark hell hole he called his extended life. She’d fit well in with those he’d grown up with, Sif would’ve given her a run for her money, as would Frigga, though something about this Natasha told him that she’d be able to take and give it with the best of them. He’d have loved to see it, truthfully. 

She reappeared with a drink in hand before his mind could further sprint down that rabbit hole of thought, and he grinned with appreciation. 

“Dirty Chai, many thanks.” 

“About as dirty as they come. Hope you don’t intend on sleeping soon after--the espresso in that will keep you up for quite awhile.” She set the drink down in front of him and leaned against his table, left palm pressed against the surface. He was delighted to see that she didn’t have a ring, or even a tan line where one might’ve sat. Thank goodness. 

“Don’t worry, I much prefer the nightlife to the morning. It’s always much more interesting.” He held her gaze, especially on the last word, delighting to see the corners of her lips twist upwards. 

“Really? Businessman like you. I’d have expected you to be in meetings by the time the majority of us were getting up and out of bed, lunch at eleven thirty on the dot or else your assistant’s ass is out the door, and well back home by three in the afternoon so that you can hit up happy hour at five.” Natasha’s head tipped to the side, eyes narrowing as she took him in. “But you say that’s not you?”

He fought the urge to laugh as she referenced the waistcoat and button down that he was rather fond of. He wasn’t much for the more recent fashions, preferring to look at least presentable on the offhand chance that someone noticed him. It got him where it needed to when he needed to be there. Hardly anyone would look twice at someone dressed to go to work in an office. “Not in the slightest. You got the business part,” he admitted, though it was a bit of a stretch. Handling old accounts and ensuring they continued to reap the best benefits, accrue the most interest, was hardly true business, yet it was his job and so he kept it. “If you suppose that I’m in the business of stringing words together. But I’m not a fan of waking up until I absolutely have to. The evening is so much more freeing than the morning. Less expectation, much more freedom. Surely you understand.” 

She was watching him carefully, lining up everything he said to her aforementioned expectations, and for lack of something better to do he reached out for the tall mug, filled to the brim with a hot beverage that smelled of spice and warmth incarnate, and took a sip of it. At least the liquid was warm enough to trick his gag reflex into thinking it was blood, and thick enough to pantomime what his body would’ve much rather have been drinking, though by the time it hit his stomach his body knew something was wrong. He could feel the hot liquid slosh around inside of him, refusing to be absorbed into his body, and so with nowhere else to go it’d have to come back out within the hour. That wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant as it tasted the first time around. 

“I do,” she said finally, and he watched as her shoulders shifted, lowering half an inch, once he’d taken a drink. “If there’s anything else I can get you don’t hesitate to ask, yeah? Enjoy your drink.” With another smile she headed away, and once more he couldn’t stop himself from watching her go. She bent over to reach for a centerpiece advertising their weekend menu, moving it from the very edge of the table where it had teetered to the middle, and his eyes took in the curve of her spine, the way that her full lips parted as she stretched, breasts pressed against the table top. Gods above and below, he hadn’t felt this turned on by an individual in decades, not since he’d frequented the Moulin Rouge with his brother, and the sight of the girls lifting their skirts had sent his mind into a frenzy with disbelief and intrigue. 

He took a few more sips of his drink, the fire of it coursing through his throat hot as blood, though it wasn’t long before he had to excuse himself to the restroom so it could come back up, tasting of bile, the cinnamon burning his throat. Fuck. That was never being ordered again. He’d stick with something far plainer next time, something that wouldn’t sting and leave him coughing like dying man. His throat ached for the familiarity of blood, desiring that which it had been tricked into thinking it had been drinking, and as he stiffened and wiped his mouth with a paper towel he resigned himself to taking the rest of the drink to go and giving it away as soon as he could. Someone else could benefit from its heat and caffeine. Then he’d need to find a meal. 

In his absence, and as though she’d read his mind, Natasha had left an empty to-go cup, the check, and a folded up menu for him to take home and peruse, he supposed. He left her a decent tip, given that he’d only ordered a drink before leaving, and caught sight of her when she came back to make her rounds. He flashed her a quick grin, thrilled to see her return it, before she turned to listen to whatever it was her other customer was saying. Loki didn’t appreciate the way that the man was looking down her shirt every so often, but as he stared he saw her bring the menu she was carrying up and over her chest, cutting him off from staring inappropriately any longer. 

The heat of his jealousy made the burn of cinnamon in his throat look like the paltry heat of a matchstick, and it stuck in his gut as he turned on his heel to leave. He had no right to feel so strongly for a woman he’d just met, none. It didn’t matter that her spirited belonged to those of the women he’d fought alongside when he was human, strong-willed and he dared say unbreakable, or that she was by far the most interesting thing within the city that he’d found. No, she had a life of her own, a business that was all hers, and he’d just met her. There was no reason he was as protective of her as he felt, or that he wanted to slaughter the man for even daring to look at her with anything but the utmost respect in his eyes. 

To his luck there was a mugging going on just down the street, his ears able to pick up the faint sobs as the woman handed over her purse with shaky hands. Loki moved through the crowd with ease, parting them like the seas, so that by the time he got to the woman in question the crook was just contemplating escape. Faster than blinking, Loki caught him around the collar, wrenched the purse away from him and handed it back to the woman with a bark of an order for her to go. She sniffled, her eyes wide, and scurried away as the man turned the gun that he carried on to Loki. He didn’t have time to pull it, the weapon ripped out of his hand and thrown to the ground, the safety firmly clicked back in place. Loki yanked his head to the side and bit down, drawing blood and a scream from the man that Loki muffled with his hand, drinking his fill. He tasted awful, but his body sang with the nutrients.

***  
***

That there was a murder so close to SHIELD sent Fury in a tizzy the day after the police had found the body, and he rounded up all the staff to make sure that they were all on the same page when it came to being safe. The last thing they needed was for one of them to get hurt, not just because it’d be a hell of an inconvenience but they’d formed a sort of tight community. A family, Nat thought with a smirk of her own, as Bruce or one of the more sentimental boys might call it. The thought was cute and she’d never laugh it off to their faces, but a family to her had only ever meant a quick hand you had to be even faster to avoid if you wanted to keep from being molested, or else jamming a chair under the handle of your door to keep your sleep undisturbed before waking up a good hour before the alarm to escape to school.

That’d all changed once Fury found her wandering the streets at 16, a chip the size of Brooklyn on her shoulder and a tongue sharpened by circumstance that told him more than enough about the situation she had back home. He’d been a social worker at that point before retiring in the next year, and had given her asylum in the rented out apartments just above what had turned into the SHIELD coffee house. Years later she couldn’t come up with any sort of reason to even think of leaving. 

If that was what constituted a family, then she supposed that was what they had. 

Some of the younger kids were coming in, yawning their hellos before going to the coffee bar to grab a cup and fresh scone or muffin that Clint and Bruce had whipped up that morning (“Clint, you cannot make _pizza_ based muffins. That’s sacrilege.” “Only if you mess up!”). Skye looked like she’d had a late night as she sat at the table beside Nat, groaning and pressing her forehead to the cool surface. Darcy sat on the other side, plucking four packets of sugar from the center and opening them all with practiced expertise, before dumping them into her coffee mug. 

“Long night, girls?” Natasha asked with a knowing smile. Neither of them had come up to their apartment last night, having instead insisted on going out right after the place had closed down. They’d been safe about it, going out together at least, but Skye’s shirt reeked of beer and Darcy had circles under her eyes the size of truck tires. 

“I’m never going to another NYU frat party again,” Skye muttered against the wood of the table. “Why’d Fury call this fuckin’ meeting, anyway? I’m supposed to have the day off.” 

“Trouble, Miss Johnson.” Fury’s voice came from behind them, making Skye jump and turn around, mouth already open in an apology or explanation. Nat snickered from behind her own drink. “Trouble never sleeps, same way that you appear not to.” 

“Didn’t mean anything by it, bossman,” Darcy chimed in, one of her hands coming to land on Skye’s shoulder in a semblance of camaraderie. “It’s just been a weird night.” 

No kidding. 

Darcy waited until Fury had walked away, moving to collect the boys from the back so they could get the meeting underway, before she muttered a curse. “Can we get him a bell or something, so there’s at least some warning before he just sneaks up on us like that? That’s ridiculous.” 

“Open your ears up and you’ll be able to hear him coming,” Nat teased. As if they’d been saying anything bad, anyway. Fury had hired Clint, for fuck’s sake. Every other word out of his mouth was dirty. Why else would they have hid him away in the kitchen, besides the fact that he could whip up a mean five egg omelette? With Fury came Maria Hill, Melinda May just beside her, and Coulson bringing up the rear. The management, and the Cavalry, as Melinda was lovingly referred to. When shit hit the fan, and the orders didn’t stop coming in, Melinda was a blessed twenty or so feet away and more than willing to tug on her apron and make a little extra on the side picking up tables that the other servers couldn’t handle, or else heading to the back or the bar to pick up the slack. Her every shift ran smooth as silk, and it was always a sign that the shift was going to go over well whenever she was on the floor. Nat offered the trio a small wave that only May returned, though Maria favored her with a smile and a dip of her head, before they got their own drinks and breakfast. 

Once everyone had congregated, Clint having pulled up a chair behind Nat so he could rest his head on her shoulder, Bruce taking a different table as he nursed what looked like a hangover. Out of respect, they all kept their distance, knowing better than to attempt to make any sudden movements or loud noises while Bruce was still pulling himself together. At least Nat knew his experimenting with making coffee liqueur popsicles must’ve been going well. Fury took the front of the room once they’d gone quiet, Maria sitting at the bar just behind him with Coulson at her side. Melinda didn’t sit, leaned up against the wall to watch instead. 

“Last night, many of you know, there was a death pretty close to the shop. Man had his throat slashed after he’d had all the blood drained from his body, and while the police don’t have a suspect in question, or even an MO in mind, I want to impress upon all of us that we need to be safe. If there’s shit going down, I don’t want any of us caught up in it. Might just be bad luck that it happened so close by, might be intentional. I’ll sleep a lot easier at night, though, knowing you’re all looking out for one another.” His eye roved the small crowd as he spoke, fixing on Nat every so often. She stiffened in her seat, knowing that he wanted her to keep an eye on the little ones, as she lovingly called them. They were a reckless crew to begin with, but their nightly escapades didn’t make it any easier. What was he expecting her to do, though? Tie them up with children’s leashes and keep them in hand at all time? “I don’t want any of you guys acting the hero. You see something funky, you report it. You don’t handle it yourself.” His gaze turned back to where Melinda was standing, the words pointed enough to bring a grin even to her face. “I mean it.” 

“Do they have any leads to work off of?” Clint asked, voice muffled in Nat’s ear. She patted the top of his head in thanks for his consideration. 

“None that I’m aware of, but I’m keeping both eyes open on this just in case.” 

Clint snickered and Nat elbowed him. Respect. 

“That all?” Skye asked, hardly stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, a flush creeping up her neck as the others turned to look at her. “Sir?” she added, meekly. 

“Grant Ward is no longer welcome in this establishment. He can take his business elsewhere. If he comes into the shop you turn him right around, and if he gives you lip or so much as looks at you funny, either call me or one of my guys at the office. Victoria Hand would be a good one. If you don’t have her number you need to come get it from Hill or Coulson. Sharon Carter would be another one.” 

Nat already had each of them in her phone, but passed around the numbers to Skye, their newest employee, who she doubted had gotten the chance to. Now that Ward had shown his hand, though, it probably wasn’t a bad idea that she knew the numbers of a couple cops on the force. The good ones, clean ones, especially. Nat wasn’t saying that she entirely though all the police were shit but . . . well, there was a reason she tended to go to Fury or Hill, or dealt with the problem herself, rather than go to the authorities. The world they lived in, and the people in it, didn’t make being a woman easy. 

The meeting wrapped up soon after that, Nick announcing what their newest theme was that weekend, trying to make sure that they were prompting the customers to come back and try Bruce’s grand experiments (“It’s not just the critics we’re looking to wow, it’s everyone else, too.”). Banner hardly lifted his head at the acknowledgement, and Nat was pretty sure he was asleep as it was. Skye grumbled something about going back to bed once the meeting was over, and she and Darcy slunk their way towards the staircase that’d lead up to their apartment. The dormitory-style living had never bothered Nat, but those two had seriously taken it to heart. 

“You’re working this morning, right?” Clint asked her as she finished the rest of her coffee and stood, cracking her back from having sat down for so long. 

“Yeah, of course. It’s a Monday, I always work Monday mornings,” she teased, nudging his side before making her way towards the counter. She had a few more opening jobs to take care of before they could actually unlock the doors and allow patrons inside, but she’d finish them in no time. Mondays were the easy days, the days with the least amount of chores, because usually they had the largest coffee time rush and Fury wasn’t stupid enough to put all the jobs on their busiest morning. It was one of the few reasons she was, ultimately, a-okay with working them. 

Clint’s face screwed up. “It’s Monday already?”

Natasha tried not to laugh as she looked over her shoulder at him. Wow, he’d had a late night last night, too. “Yeah, Clint. Bruce got control of the kitchen last night, like every Sunday. Means today is Monday.” 

“Oh shuddup.” He rolled his eyes and moved back behind the bar and towards the kitchen. “It’s been a rough week. Lucky had to be taken to the vet, Kate took him on Saturday. He had a stomach thing.” 

“You keep feeding him pizza and yeah, of course he’s gonna have stomach problems.” Natasha’s brow pulled down in a deep frown, measuring out the dark roast coffee beans with a careful, practiced hand before pouring them into the grinder. Anything Clint might’ve said was drowned out as it worked, before she took the grounds and started a fresh pot on one of the large drip machines. She might as well have gotten an IV drip of it, to be fair, she drank so much damn coffee. It was a good thing free drinks was a perk of the job, and experimenting with flavor combinations to make sure she got the most caffeine with the least bitter taste was a great way to make her shift fly. 

“He’s a rescue dog, I’m thinking stomach problems are on par for the course,” Clint said. 

Natasha arched a brow. Aw, he was picking up some actual vocabulary from her! “Don’t you sound fancy,” she teased as the large machine growled into action. “You’ve got a point, but you only make it worse when you supplement his dog food with human food. You should read up on it, or I can at least point Kate in the right direction.” She would listen to reason, at least. 

Clint pulled a face, starting to ask whether or not Natasha had ever even eaten dog food, because it tasted like shit, when the door opened and--lo and behold who would walk in the door, but the man who’d been eating away at her mind last night. 

“You look like you could use a warm drink.”

***

Loki normally couldn't stay out in daylight. It wasn't like the idiot movies or popular fiction. He didn't go into torpor or anything ridiculous like that. But the direct rays of the sun could burn his skin and boil his blood, which was a particularly painful way to die. It wasn't on his list of things to experience, and he hadn't found anything yet that was worth tempting death for.

Until now.

His dark clothing would block most of the ultraviolet light. He had thick black leather gloves, and he could always find a hat that would have a wide enough brim to protect his face. Sunglasses for his eyes, his hair long and loose to cover his neck. He would possibly look silly to most mortals, but at the moment he cared less about their sensibilities and more about his preservation. It would be easy enough to ensnare minds and try to convince them he looked like an ordinary mortal man. The extra layers would only be necessary to cross the street and enter SHIELD. From there...

From there, he would face Natasha. And she certainly wasn't weak of mind or spirit. She would find him ridiculous. Hopefully charming as well.

Sighing, Loki strode to his closet and took in the items hanging there. Though they were all fine in quality, there was very little variety to be found there. What could he bring to impress her? And what would she be impressed by, in any case? She didn't seem overly enamored of any mortal man that entered the restaurant, and deflected any sexual banter that patrons sent her way. What if she truly held no interest in such things? Or if her friendliness with the cook was more than just friendship? What if she held no interest in men at all? What would he do then? It would be horribly wrong to coerce her to love him, assuming he could manage such a feat. She wouldn’t be one so easily swayed to anyone else’s desires but her own. 

He was acting like an idiot. Loki yanked on clothes and grabbed his gloves. He had sunglasses and a fedora. That might spare some of his face from a burn, at least to make the dash across the street. Then he would have to be sure he sat far from the windows.

As he crossed the room from his closet, he realized that the sliver of space beneath his curtains was fairly dark. Frowning a little, Loki approached the window and gingerly pulled the shade aside.

It was raining.

Now he laughed and tossed the fedora and sunglasses aside. He could bolt across the street with the rain as an excuse, and the small amount of ultraviolet that filtered through the cloud cover and rain wouldn't burn him or set him on fire. He would be safe. And he could still see Natasha.

When he managed to get into the restaurant, he was soaked from the downpour. His blood sang in his veins, the scare of potential sunlight and the lure of seeing Natasha making him feel more alive than he had in the past dozen years or so. He wasn't even sure exactly what it was about her that drew him inexorably toward her. It wasn't any one particular aspect of her. She was beautiful, powerful despite her size, strong willed, graceful, intelligent, witty and amazingly loyal to her friends. What wasn't there to like?

For such a rainy day, the seating area was rather empty, though a sandy blond man stood with his back to the door, his attentions on Natasha at the coffee bar. Loki headed there immediately. He gave her a charming smile, perfected over the centuries, and sat down in front of her. "Good morning," he said, still smiling at her.

"You could use a warm drink," Natasha replied with a smile, leaning on the bar. 

"What would you recommend? I'm not much of a coffee drinker, remember?"

Natasha nodded in acknowledgement. "What flavors do you generally like?"

_Blood,_ but that wasn't something he could actually tell her. "Sweet," he said after a moment's deliberation. "Not cloyingly so, but a hint of sweetness. Sometimes tart or tangy."

"Sweet tooth, huh?" Natasha asked, lips curling into a smile. "Caramel macchiato, maybe? A hint of flavor to lighten the taste of the arabica bean, and steamy enough to warm you from the inside out."

Was he simply reading into her words, or did she mean to give him a double entendre? Either way, he couldn't help but grin at her. "That sounds absolutely perfect."

He watched her create the macchiato, movements spare and graceful. Natasha moved like a dancer, and he couldn't help but admire her as she moved. "You dance, don't you?" he asked after thanking her and paying for the drink. He cupped it in his hands, savoring the warmth leaching into his hands. At her quirked eyebrow, he let himself appear a little chagrined. "The way you move. Quite graceful. Some of the other people about the place stomp and clod. You move like you have formal training in dance."

"Five years of ballet," she acknowledged with a nod and slight smile. There was something in that smile that warned him not to press farther, though he couldn't have said what it was. 

"Impressive," he said, lifting the cup to take a small sip of the steaming drink. "Do you miss dancing?"

"What makes you think I don't still dance?"

Loki blinked at the edge in her voice. "You sounded as if you didn't any longer, as though your training had finished. Besides, if you work both evenings and mornings here, how could you find time to continue with your training?"

She nodded and seemed to relax. "Reasonable enough assumption, I guess," Natasha said. "It was excellent exercise, but it stopped being fun long before I stopped attending classes."

He took another small sip. He could taste the different flavors, and did like the caramel. At least his body wasn't rebelling against the liquid yet. "You make excellent coffee," he told her.

"It's my life's work to be a barista," she replied, that edge in her tone again. Loki wondered if he was just being overly sensitive, or if there was truly something about her past that was uncomfortable. If that was the case, he would drive her away without meaning to.

"Is it difficult? I have no idea what your schedule must be like."

Natasha watched him for a moment, likely looking to see if he was mocking her or not. When she decided that he wasn't, she settled back to lean against the bar, her expression open again. "I have long hours. I'm on my feet a lot, walking around to restock the bar in between making the coffees and getting drinks together. We do more than just coffee, though that's the mainstay earlier in the day. Evenings adds food, alcohol and a wider array of coffees. The experimental menu is weekend fare." She tilted her head to the side, observing him as he took in the explanation, slowly sipping at the coffee in his hands. "What about you? You mentioned something about the business of words before?" Her tone was taunting, and her smile just teasing enough to make him laugh quietly. 

"I'm a writer," Loki replied, the lie falling easily from his tongue. He had often used that excuse throughout the centuries. They tended to be forgiven a great many oddities, and he could blame any peculiar phrases on his muse. "Nothing very popular, unfortunately," he added with a self deprecating smile, "but I do enjoy it."

"Fiction or nonfiction?" Natasha asked, sounding interested and leaning a little closer.

"Fiction. Poetry sometimes," Loki added, recalling some eddas he had written several hundred years ago, and sonnets while living in Elizabethan England. Those had been some good times.

"Is there a particular kind of story you like to write?"

Loki smiled at her and put the cup down on the bar. "Sometimes they start with a tragedy. Heartbreak and loss, and the protagonist is sure that he is meant to suffer. But then he finds those few that seem to understand him, that appreciate him. It’s from there he grows into who he's meant to be." He laughed a little and then picked up the cup again. "Sounds very much like a great many other literary works. So you see why it's not terribly popular."

"It's a good story," Natasha murmured. "Try making the hero a girl sometimes. Maybe that'll help you sell a manuscript or two."

"What would she be drawn to?" Loki murmured, lips curling a little at the corners. Gods, she was absolutely stunning. Brilliant. "What would she want in life?"

"Choices, of course. Being important. Being safe. All the things that anyone else would want. Her needs aren't any different just because she's a woman." Her smile was crooked as she stared down at him, and he wondered if she knew that their conversation was no longer purely fictitious in nature. 

"If I could keep her safe, cherish her very being, give her what she needs..."

"Then maybe you'd be a keeper. And you'd have a story worth telling."

"All stories are worth telling. The trick is to find the right audience." He leaned in a little. "I do hope I could find that audience."

Natasha stood up straight, though her smile was warm. "Maybe. You never know. Stick around, tell a few stories, see what the response is."

"I think I might."

Loki was grinning like a loon as she sashayed from the bar to head to the kitchen. For the first time in a few hundred years he found he wasn’t dreading the coming dark.

***  
***

It was ridiculous, the way Loki had gotten in the habit of watching for Natasha through the windows. He couldn't seem to tell when she came in and out of the building and he figured that she must’ve had a key to a back entrance. He caught glimpses of her through the front plate glass window, and knew he could cross the street to visit and order a good cup of coffee. He lost most of the nuance in the flavors, of course, and simply couldn't tolerate too much of it, but the discomfort was worth it. He enjoyed the almost-flirty vein of their interactions, the curl in her lips and the suggestive way she walked around SHIELD, especially when she knew he was watching. It was a welcome distraction from the way that the coffee sloshed uncomfortably in his stomach.

Loki always reflexively swallowed his nausea down until he saw Natasha serving someone else. Only then he went to the bathroom to retch and bring it all back up. If Natasha heard him throw up or saw him head to the bathroom and asked him what was going on, Loki planned to lie and say he was merely sick. He wouldn't touch any chicken soup or crackers, and absolutely would refuse any solid food. It was a welcome fantasy, anyway.

She was unfailingly polite and friendly, returning his witty banter with her own suggestive comments. He teased her that he would welcome visiting whenever it was her shift, making her laugh. "Then you'd be here all the time!" she had said, shaking her head. "You've barely touched your coffee, Loki," she said, peering at his cup, still three quarters full one time.

"I find the company utterly fascinating."

"Charmer."

"I'll drink it on my way through the city," Loki lied, smiling sweetly at her. He had every intention of passing it along to whatever homeless person he saw along the streets. Most shivered in empty doorways or stairwells, hoping to avoid charges of trespassing or being forced into shelters. There were fewer homeless in the streets after there was the big push to bus them out of the city, but there were some places where they still tended to congregate. Loki tracked them closely, since it was an easy way to get a quick meal and disappear back into the shadows.

He faded into the darkness as he left SHIELD, the coffee cup with its eagle emblem still warm in his hand. He tried to remember the last place he had hunted in the city, but couldn't remember. It probably wasn't the financial district, though. Odds were good he had gone to Alphabet City or one of the projects; his lack of memory over the hunt indicated he had probably found someone high on drugs.

Loki gave the coffee to a homeless man huddled beneath five layers or coats and newspapers in the stairwell of an elegant brownstone on his way to the financial district. He smiled in a friendly way, lulling the homeless man into complacency. The man wouldn't remember Loki later.

And neither would the pompous stockbroker walking to the subway after falling asleep at his desk that evening, trying to squeeze a few more sales into his day.

***

She hadn’t thought, initially, that she’d made all that much of an impression on Loki from the first time he’d come in to SHIELD, and truthfully she hadn’t expected him to leave all that much of an impression on her. Certainly, Natasha would admit that there was something about him, a certain effect that had her leaning in a little closer than strictly necessary, a lilt to his words that went beyond having a posh accent and instead made her wonder whether he was an old soul at heart, or whether he was too in love with whatever it was he wrote. She’d caught him cursing something called Yggdrasil one evening, and when she’d looked it up she’d found that it was believed to be the life tree, whose branches connected nine realms of the universe, according to the Vikings that had once believed it. Along with a slew of Pagan and New Age pages that detailed different collective beliefs about the tree’s actuality, she scanned the Wikipedia article about it, musing at the other Norse deities it was associated with. Loki, of course, was one of them.

An eccentric mother, perhaps? It wouldn’t be the first ancient named man she had a thing with, Hercules had been a trip and a half himself. 

That thought stopped her, though. A _thing_? She was already considering that whatever they had between them was more than friendly banter? 

_‘Don’t be ridiculous, Natasha.’_ She scolded herself as she perused the rest of the article, looking over the expansive pantheon and their complicated histories. Certainly she found him attractive, as any hot-blooded woman would’ve, and he was polite, a healthy tipper, and well spoken, well dressed enough to say that he had money without being gaudy. That didn’t mean they were in love, or had anything going between them aside from a client and employee sort of relationship. She was being foolish. 

She shut out of her laptop and ignored the sensation at the back of her mind that she was being an idiot, not needing to remind herself any more of her foolishness. Once had been enough. There were more important things to focus on, anyway. There’d been another body found dead, this time only a few blocks away, throat slit after being exsanguinated before that had happened, just like the other one Fury had mentioned. She’d skimmed the police report that Fury had brought into work with him before he could collect it and bring it to his office. Maria had already been on the phone talking to a few of her old friends from the NYPD, likely to see what was being done with it. Fury was talking to the guys in the back, probably telling them to be wary of anyone who looked even the slightest bit shady. 

Nat had smiled when Clint had chimed in: “Uhh, Fury? We work at a coffee shop. The shadiest people we get are the college students who literally think they’re too cool to take off their sunglasses.” 

It’d earned him a whap on the back of the head, but nothing else was said on the matter. The day progressed just as it had been before, and Nat did her best to put thoughts of Yggdrasil and slit throats out of her mind for the rest of her morning shift. The morning rush helped, of course, and by the time it’d slowed down again she’d forgotten about it. 

Of their numerous regulars, Steve and Bucky were by far some of Nat’s favorites. It wasn’t just because Bucky knew decent enough Russian that the two of them could hold conversations behind everyone else’s backs like Clint thought, but rather they were so... well, normal. Relaxed. Realistically, of course, she knew that wasn’t exactly the word anyone else might’ve used to describe them, but to her they felt normal. 

They felt like what she imagined a real family would feel like if she’d ever had one. 

They always came in together, usually on Wednesdays when Steve got out of class early enough for them to catch the shop nearly empty after the lunch rush. The crowds tended to make Bucky uneasy, and Nat had grown to learn just how to best tell what sort of day it was based on how dark he wanted his coffee, and the twitching of the fingers on his left hand before Steve would take it with his own, lace his fingers with Bucky’s, and squeeze tight enough to reassure him that everything was fine. 

Wednesdays also meant that Clint brought in Lucky, and no sooner had Steve and Bucky walked in than the pup came out at Clint’s side, tail wagging, ears tipped upwards at the familiar sound of Steve’s voice as he finished up his conversation and motioned for Bucky to take their usual seat near the window. It was the best view of the city, he’d told Nat once. She was pretty sure it was because Bucky found it the most calming. 

Steve was good like that, though. Deflecting attention, drawing it onto himself. He was a natural at it, as though he’d grown up rolling with the punches and taking on more than any one man should have to. Bucky was a lucky man, though as was Steve. Few others would willingly go to bat for him every time someone said two words to Steve about his art, sexuality, and everything in between. They’d let a guy get tossed out on his ass after he’d called Steve a faggot in passing, Bucky fuming even as Steve put a hand on his shoulder and murmured something to try and calm him down in his ear. That asshat hadn’t come back again, and as far as Natasha knew after Fury was done with him he was in no way ready or able to press charges against Bucky for assault. 

Like she said: family. 

Steve had rounded his way around to their spot while Bucky came up to greet the pale gold dog making his way closer, Lucky’s tail wagging furiously from side to side as he pushed his hand into Bucky’s, licking at his skin. Nat already had their drinks started, guessing from the small smile that tipped up the corners of Bucky’s mouth that he was only looking for a medium roast today, maybe with a shot of espresso on the side. Steve was a big fan of the sweeter concoctions of her and Melinda’s invention, and today, given the very fall-like weather they were having felt like a snickerdoodle type of day. With practiced fingers she mixed a brown sugar-esque syrup (thank you, Bruce) in with a shot and a half of chai tea as the milk steamed and foamed in the machine. She combined it all together in a large mug that he could still probably wrap his enormous hand around if he decided to. Crazy that he could still craft some of the most delicate pictures she’d seen with his sized hands. 

Steve was on his way up as Nat was on her way over, balancing the two steaming cups, with the shot of espresso on the side, with ease. He grinned. “How’d you even know what I wanted?” he asked as she lowered the tray and offered him the latte. He breathed deep the scent of cinnamon and spices, groaning when he took a sip despite how hot it was. 

“Felt like that sort of day is all, really,” she said with a simple shrug, before stepping over towards Bucky’s seat and placing his coffee on the table, the shot on the side next to it in a small, ceramic shot glass. He looked up from where he was petting Lucky to thank her, and when he moved to take his seat the dog followed, sitting at his feet without so much as a peep. Steve took his seat, too, still sipping at his drink before setting it down so he could sling his messenger bag over his shoulders to get at the sketchbook there. 

“How was class today?” Nat asked, feeling conversational, leaning against the wall near their table. Steve looked up and smiled. 

“We did nude modeling today, so, it was one of the more interesting days.” 

“Aw, you should’ve called! I would’ve come in a heartbeat,” Clint quipped from the side, grinning. Nat reached out to whack him upside the head. Nerd. 

Steve and Bucky just laughed, Steve shaking his head. “Not sure the co-eds are ready for that. It was near nude, I should’ve clarified. The man had on boxers and the woman had on a bra and pair of panties.” His ears were turning red as he talked about it, and quickly flipped through the attempts at drawing them he’d made in his book. Nat caught a peek of his different studies of muscles on the male model and grinned. He was adorable. 

“Right, well, we’ll leave you to it, then,” Nat winked before she headed away. “I imagine Sam’ll be here soon enough, but please resist the temptation to ask him to model naked for you while here. It might be good for business but his ego is inflated enough as it is, getting attention from you two handsome lugs.” 

Steve’s flush deepened, and though he opened his mouth to say something Nat walked away before he could. Oh please. She knew just about everything that went on. Had he really thought he could get away with flirting with Sam in public and she wouldn’t know about it? Clint stayed with them for a little while longer, taking his time as he sat down a few feet away from Bucky, aiming to give the man his space as Lucky rested his head on Bucky’s knee, tail slowly wagging. It was taking time, but Bucky was getting better at engaging in conversations with people that weren’t Steve, and he had Clint had hit it off without fail as soon as Lucky had been brought around, as though whomever the dog trusted Bucky knew he could do the same. 

Nat smiled as she looked at them from her place at the bar, holding down the fort as a couple other customers came in to keep her occupied, but not busy. They took their coffees and headed out almost immediately afterwards, and Bucky’s shoulders stayed relaxed the whole way through. Steve had picked up his pencil and started sketching as Bucky and Clint talked, and Nat had a sneaking suspicion that if she was to catch sight of what it was he worked on with such an intense furrow in his brow it’d be the way Bucky’s eyes lit up with a smile, or the easy curve of his cupid’s bow. She’d caught enough sneak peeks of Steve’s work to know that his boyfriend frequented them the most.

***

Loki thought of capturing Natasha in oils on canvas, though he was out of practice with painting portraits from memory. He had money enough that he could order a considerable amount of supplies from Pearl Paint further downtown, but he knew he was too much of a perfectionist to be able to commit to paint until he felt his skills were back up to par. He instead attempted to do a number of ink sketches on unlined paper, and stared at the full lips he had drawn first. Not too bad, and generally did look like Natasha's lips curled into a sardonic smile. It was by far one of his favorites.

Next came the deft strokes to capture the tilt of her chin, a slight defiant jut that reminded him of the first time he had seen her throwing Ward out of SHIELD. Then was the slope of her neck, the warm spot as it slid into her shoulders. Going over the lines created a soft shadow there, and his pulse leapt as he thought of sinking his teeth into her, blood bursting onto his tongue, a heady moan as she clutched him close and begged him not to stop...

Pushing the sketch aside, Loki had to get up from his desk and pace. No, he couldn't think of her in that way, couldn't think of her as simply a repository of blood. Natasha was far too special, far too important to be thought of in such a cavalier manner. He could feel the connection between the two of them, one hadn't felt with another woman in... Well, far too long. Not since Sigyn, and she had died at least nine hundred years before, poison corroding her body from the inside out.

He grimaced. Thinking of her wasn't any better, and he was loath to really recall the early centuries of his life. His mother had loved him dearly, despite the difficulty he had in fitting in with what she’d already begun to create as her family, and he’d never felt a connection to any of the others at court. Not that it was all that easy when they so simply embodied the gods once thought of as benevolent and far better praised. He didn’t fit in near as well as Thor, or Sif had after Thor had decided he couldn’t be without her. No, escaping at the first chance he found had been the only option, and the prior attempts of his adoptive brother to bring him back to the fold had failed. Spectacularly. As if Loki would have it any other way. Since then he’d had nearly five hundred years of glorious silence and peace in this time, and he was glad of every moment of it. He valued his alone time, the ability to create and live as he saw fit, free from the sniggering of Fandral and Volstagg, free of Odin’s always less than impressed gaze. Loki didn't want anything but his own little sanctuary.

He was too alone, though. That much was obvious at this point. He barely knew Natasha, yet he wanted to fantasize about her, wanted to sketch and paint her, wanted to _bite_ her, and not merely for sustenance, but for the pleasure of it. His body ached with the need to connect with someone, and somehow it seemed to be her. Had to be her. The thought of doing that with anyone else didn’t sit right in his gut. Who would choose a duplicate, a poorly crafted one, over the authentic, best original? 

Yet, as much as he wanted to be close to her, he wasn’t about to lure her into the dark. She was his light in the darkness, the joy that made his days less bleak. Loki had to be sure that Natasha didn't learn of his true nature because he wasn’t sure he could stand the idea of her being afraid of him. Not that he could envision her being afraid of anything, truthfully, but who wouldn’t be petrified that a vampire wasn’t going to one day turn on them? Even without the growing desire for her, he liked her as a friend as well. The flirting was fun and harmless, and she looked at him as if she could understand him and what he felt. 

He didn't dare lose that.

Pacing didn't relieve his restlessness, so he grabbed his coat and left the apartment, pulling the blinds and curtains tightly closed before he did. This time, he turned uptown, past Alphabet City, into the darker alleys with the seedier bars and clubs. He wasn't of the mindset that drug-laced blood was anything that could be enjoyed; it tasted chemical-laden and more often than not fell flat, providing him with terrible headaches and joint pains. Still, the blood was plentiful and free flowing from the idiot children that liked to think themselves invincible, and he could almost always find at least one or two individuals who’d yet to partake in any of the recreational tablets or drugs that floated around.

A few swallows here, a few there, and then up one of the Avenues toward Midtown. The populace was sparser until he approached Times Square. As much as it had been cleaned up in recent years, with less of the illicit activity and shops in the area, it was still crowded and a tourist trap. The tourists that came and went were nearly too easy to drink from, and he already looked like someone strung out on meth thanks to his earlier dining. It wasn't a stretch to pretend to be lost, ask for directions, get his hapless victim turned around and around, get a nip of blood.

Doing this ate up his evenings, but it left him feeling cold and lonely at the end of it. His apartment was just as dark, just as empty. He still longed for companionship, for someone that could understand him and not fear the monster that he was. He was aching to _belong,_ even though he knew he never would be able to. Loki wasn't willing to walk into the sun, so he simply folded himself into bed, covered up with piles of comforters, and waited for night to fall again. Then he would repeat his days, one after another in endless repetition, looking forward to the times he could see Natasha at SHIELD again.

***  
***

"I'm telling you, Tasha, no one has ever seen him eat a damn thing. Sipping at whatever flavor of the day coffee you make him, but that's it," Clint told Natasha, his voice sour with disapproval. He was in her living room, pacing in an agitated manner. She merely sat back and sipped her tea, a book in her lap. At this rate, she was never going to finish reading it. "I don't like it."

"You hardly like anybody."

"I like you. I like Kate. I can deal with the SHIELD staff without mouthing off _too_ much. That's plenty of liking, as far as I'm concerned." He softened his words with a playful grin, making Natasha toss a pillow at his head. "Oh, come on!"

"The guy comes in and orders coffee. We have some flirty banter, he leaves."

"The guy," Clint mimicked, rolling his eyes at her. "What, never got his name? Of course he got yours."

"I was his waitress and barista. So yes, he got my name. His is Loki."

"Loki. That sounds..." Clint frowned, hands gesturing as he tried to find the right word. "Not English."

"Good one, genius," Natasha snickered, sipping at her tea. "He comes in to have coffee and flirt. Why does this get you upset? You don't care about relationships."

"Well, no. And most of your exes are at least reasonable creatures that don't creep me out whenever they’re hanging around," Clint replied, making a dismissive hand gesture.

Nat’s eyebrows shot up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Pump the brakes. Did you just skip past flirting to dating and breaking up?"

Clint barrel rolled past that. "There's no substance to this guy. You know nothing about him. And he doesn't like my food!"

"He's never eaten it!"

"Exactly! I can't trust someone that won't eat my food! There's something wrong with him."

Natasha sighed. "Clint, you're being obnoxious. He's just a repeat customer. Trying to be a regular. Tips nice, polite, fun kind of flirt, never pushes things."

"Maybe he's an ace, too," Clint mused. "Then I don't have to worry about you."

"I never asked you to worry about me!" She rolled her eyes. Seriously. It wasn’t like she couldn’t take care of herself! 

"I know! But you're my best friend, and there have been some losers in your time. That Hercules dude?" he reminded her.

"Rebounds don't count!" Natasha glared at him, but that didn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

"Matt was probably the least douchey of all the exes, but he had his moments, too. If he couldn't devote himself to you, then there's no point in making a go of it." He tossed the pillow at her, and she managed to catch it with one hand without spilling too much of her tea. "Oh. Tea. Sorry."

"You're being an idiot for nothing."

Clint stopped pacing and plopped down on the couch beside her. "I hope it's nothing, I really do. But this guy... It's like he's gotten into my head. I can't stop thinking about it and worrying about you."

"I'm a big girl, Clint. I can take care of myself."

He sighed and nodded. "I know you can. You have for such a long time, and hurts me to keep seeing you do it alone. You're off all day tomorrow. Why don't I play hooky and we go hit up the Angelika or something? I'm sure there's some frou-frou foreign flick you're dying to see."

"Wow, you're not kidding you're worried. Wouldn't you rather go hang in Bed-Stuy at that place you like so much, get a pizza and some beers?"

The look of relief on Clint's face was almost comic. "Oh, thank God, yes. Kate could always swing by, if you don't mind. Lucky's still on antibiotics, and he never eats 'em from me, even when I hide them in a piece of pizza."

Natasha put her tea down so she could cover her face in her hands. "That poor dog. My God, Clint, it's amazing he's even still alive."

Clint grinned. "Pizza's good for all that ails you, I promise. Coffee, too, which is why I work at SHIELD. And, you know, the friends I've got."

"Charmer. Fine, we'll go get some pizza and beer, we'll hang out, see if Lucky feels better. If he is, maybe he could come down and visit SHIELD again on Wednesday when Bucky's there. He's a lot calmer when Lucky's around, and he missed the pooch."

"Yeah, dude twitches something fierce. I never got the story from Steve, but that's okay. I slip him some extra bacon or ham on his burgers and a couple extra onion rings. I don't think he notices, but he eats 'em up, and I think he's gained a little weight since he started hanging out more."

Smiling, Natasha leaned in and kissed Clint softly on the cheek. "You're a good man, Clint. Go head downstairs and start your shift. I'm going to go to bed. Come on up tomorrow when you're ready to head to Brooklyn."

***

The next day he came in Loki could hear Clint grumbling in the kitchen about the "pale anorexic geek" to Natasha when she headed into the kitchen to get another patron's order. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he might arouse suspicions about what he was, and coffee was already pushing his limits. Eating food would make him downright ill very quickly, and he wasn't seated too close to the restroom. But if he didn't order and the cook's ire continued to rise, Natasha might feel suspicious. He couldn't have that.

"Maybe I'll order dinner," he said to Natasha, only two sips of the macchiato taken. It sloshed uncomfortably in his belly, and he already regretted the drink. Still, he pasted a smile on his face and took in her look of surprise. "Am I not allowed to order?"

"You've been here for weeks and never ordered anything."

"Maybe I'm willing to try something you recommend. Your judgment about the coffee is very good. What you choose for food would be good as well."

Natasha was still surprised, but pleased, too. "Are you thinking of something in particular? Light or a little heavier? No offense, but you could probably go with the heavier meal that has the cream sauces and sides. Clint's a whiz at all of that."

"Does he have a specialty? I hear he's a fantastic chef."

She smiled warmly, eyes sparkling in delight. "I have the perfect thing in mind."

The perfect thing turned out to be an elegantly arrayed steak with broiled asparagus, tiny potatoes spiral cut and fanned out along the side of the plate, and a red wine reduction sauce drizzled over it. "I think you'll like this, since you've liked the coffee choices," Natasha said proudly. "Free range beef from an upstate farm we have a close association with. We have great deals, and everything is cruelty free, chemical free, hormone free. Clint has been looking to wow someone with this dish, and I convinced him that it would best go to you, and not some stuffy food critic that will only eat two bites."

Loki gave her a charming smile, which she returned, and he tried to delicately nibble at the food. Because of her comment, Loki knew that he had to eat more than two bites of it, even if it made him feel ill. Clint truly was a masterful chef, so at first he thought it would be an easy task. He could taste the flavors and delighted in the textures on his tongue. However, he had to swallow down the solid food. By the third bite, his stomach rebelled violently, and he had to rush toward the restroom. He barely managed to lock the door and lift the toilet seat before he retched, chewed food and sipped coffee coming back up with an acrid burn in his throat. He shut his eyes against the tears that involuntarily formed, blurring his vision pink. It was a bad idea, of course, but he hadn't wanted Natasha to frown at him or think he was odd, and he hadn't wanted her friend to think poorly of him because he wasn’t eating.

Natasha was waiting when he left the restroom, concern etched on her features at the sickly look of him. She reached out to grasp his arm when he would have moved past. "You're sick, aren't you?" she murmured in a low tone, that husky voice making him weak in the knees. "That's why you only get coffee, isn't it? You're pale and skinny and can't eat..."

"Yes," he rasped, giving her a wilted smile as he seized on her excuse. "It's difficult to talk about, and certainly not with everyone I meet."

"Is it something serious?" she asked in a hushed tone. When he nodded, she gave his arm a squeeze of support. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's all right, you couldn’t have known," Loki reiterated, feeling himself relax that she’d taken the story to be true. "It's still difficult to tolerate food. But it tasted wonderful."

She squeezed his arm again. "I can box it up for you, and you can finish it later. No rush. It'll reheat well, I promise. I've done it myself dozens of times."

"The benefit of being friends with a chef, I'm sure," Loki returned with a smile.

Natasha's laugh was friendly and light. "That's for sure." She nodded toward the kitchen. "I'll go get a to-go box, okay? You just relax. Don't force yourself to eat if you can't."

"Then he'll be insulted I couldn't finish my meal," Loki said, frowning. The point of enduring this hell was to alleviate suspicion, not generate more.

"If it's okay with you, I'll just tell Clint you're too sick to eat much."

Loki nodded. "All right." When Natasha started to turn, he grasped her arm. "The night I saw you, when I first came in," he began, spinning a plausible tale, "I was on the way back from a treatment session, and I was feeling low. Terrible. Like it's all pointless. And I saw you, and I couldn't help but get drawn in."

The look she shot him wasn’t so convinced, but she played it off as amused. "You make me sound like a spider in the center of a web."

His smile was bittersweet. "You make me feel alive."

She blinked once, twice, in quick succession, and he winced internally. Too far, too fast. He was messing this up without having to do much more than open his mouth. _‘How typical.’_

Her smile was warm, though, when it did come, turning up the corners of her lips as her eyes crinkled. "You’re sweet. I'll just go take care of boxing this up for you, okay? Just sit back down and relax."

At least a patient with some kind of exotic, nameless illness would garner sympathy. He could feel safe in his quiet contemplation of flavored coffees, bars and the incredibly stunning and alluring Natasha Romanoff, barista extraordinaire.

***

From: JRhodes@gmail.com  
To: NJF@gmail.com

Fury,

I understand that you’re worried about your people being safe, but I’m not so sure starting up a neighborhood watch, or task force, would be the best bet. We’ve got a couple of our detectives working on it right now, Carter and Triplett, so don’t go off and do something you might end up regretting. I know how much your employees mean to you, and I’ll come in to give a self defense demo if you really think it’s gonna help, but I don’t want you to just up and do something rash. 

That being said, you are going to want to be careful yourself. The last guy to die was a member of the force who’d retired a couple years ago. Dunno if this perp is changing vics from stock brokers to cops, now that we’re on the look out for him, but you take care of yourself. Tell the rest of your team that, too. If you get too involved it’s going to be dangerous, and a permit to carry can only get our cops so far if they get the chance to use their gun. 

Not saying your reflexes are getting slow, but given that the guy he just killed was one of our best shots, I’m saying right now that it might not be so simple. Exercise caution. I mean it.

I’ll be over next week to talk to your people if you still want me to.

Rhodes

***  
***

Natasha had to admit that she was curious about Loki. The flirting had gotten less subtle, and the occasional bites of food he took all had made her wonder about him. He was lanky and pale, and she had no idea what he wrote. He never brought a notebook or laptop with him, and didn't even seem to have a phone to take notes on. She thought it was rather odd for a writer, because how else could he afford to live in Manhattan and get treatment for his illness? Disability wouldn't cover rent in this district, and she supposed he had to live near SHIELD. He never seemed winded when he arrived, though he always seemed to be physically fragile as he ate or drank.

"Ask him what kind of food he can tolerate," Bruce suggested when Natasha brought it up before the next staff meeting. Once Fury and Maria showed up to start the damn thing then the gossip would end, but Nat was going to take advantage of the time while she could. "I'm sure I could whip up something that would meet his nutrient requirements and still taste good." He seemed to be excited at the idea of a new food project.

"Ugh," Clint had said, rolling his eyes and pouring himself a generous mug of black coffee. "What kind of food? Sick people eat bland shit. You know, bananas and rice and apples and stuff like that. Do you really think you can make a gourmet chicken soup or something? I've tried, no point on improving on the original recipe. Fancy organic chicken soup is still chicken soup."

Kate cheerfully smacked him on the back of his head. "Don't be rude, Clint. Anyway, are the hottie vets going to be in today?" she asked, nodding toward the dog sprawled at her feet. "Someone wants cuddles and scritches and food that isn't cold pizza."

"He's absolutely a pizza dog!" Clint protested. "I tried feeding him leftover New York strip, I'll have you know, and he turned his nose up at it. Even bits of Kobe beef! Or mahi mahi!" Clint threw up his hands in frustration and then looked down at Lucky. "He's no food snob, that's for sure."

Natasha hid her snickering behind her mug of spicy chai. "I think Bucky and Steve were coming in a little later. Steve said he wanted to be sure there was good light in the main dining area for his sketching."

That made Kate light up. "Think he'll do portraits again?"

"You can ask him," Natasha suggested, then took a sip.

"I think I'll do that," Kate said with a smile, standing up. She had Lucky's leash firmly in hand, and gave it a gentle tug to indicate she was ready to walk. Lucky was a fairly good natured dog, and immediately got to his feet. He nudged Clint, who gave him a few loving scritches on the top of his head, and then let Kate lead him out of the staff area and out into the main dining area before she could get yelled at by Fury for being where she didn’t belong. She wasn’t old enough to work, not just yet, but soon as she would she already had a shoe in. So long as she listened to Fury, of course. 

Clint waited until the doors swung shut before sighing. "She's going to get her heart broken, you know. I think she wants Steve."

"Most do," Natasha replied with an indifferent shrug.

"But he's with Bucky," Clint said.

"I get the feeling she knows and is more than willing to ogle them both," Bruce replied wryly. "I'm surprised neither of you are going to gossip about Sam."

Both Natasha and Clint were startled and looked at him. "Wait, what? We're missing something?"

Bruce laughed. "Don't tell me I got one up on you two. You know everything about everyone."

"Sam is wonderful, I know that," Natasha said, leaning forward, eyes lighting up. "What's this about gossip, though? Sam is such a thoughtful person."

"It couldn't be anything terrible," Clint added as Bruce paused.

"Of course not. He wouldn't continue working as a paramedic with Metro General Hospital if he was," Natasha declared. "So what's the scoop?"

"I may have heard from Claire that Sam was looking to buy one of Steve's portraits."

Natasha and Clint in unison sighed and leaned back. "That's not news," Clint groused.

"One of his naked portraits of Bucky," Bruce added with a flourish.

The two leaned back in, eyes widening. "Really? _That_ I wouldn't mind getting a look at myself," Natasha added playfully.

"And that's not all," Bruce said, a satisfied smirk on his face. It wasn't often he had more gossip than they did, given that he was usually in his office working on the company books. "The price for the portrait is a dinner at their apartment."

"So that would be Steve, Bucky and Sam all together?" Clint asked in surprise.

"I'm really liking that visual," Natasha purred.

Bruce's reply was cut off by Darcy very loudly complaining to Skye about her frozen, and notably absent, iPod. "Coulson promised he would figure out what went wrong, but he's had it for like a month. I only downloaded thirty songs onto it! I've done that before, it shouldn't have frozen it."

"You should've given it to _me,"_ Skye admonished her as they came into the staff area. She waved at the others and then unslung her messenger bag. "Hey, guys."

"Well, if he doesn't give me back my iPod," Darcy declared, plopping down into a seat, "I'll see if Melinda can convince him. I hardly see her since she's on days, but he'll listen to her. She's badass."

"Calling in the cavalry?" Clint teased, poking her in the arm. "Coulson's not bad to talk to. Ask him yourself and you'll get it back."

Darcy wrinkled her nose as the sound of other staffers carried down the hall. "No way. He's like, assistant manager and scary with responsibility. I want nothing to do with any of that icky stuff. Next time I'll just hide my earbuds in my hair or something so he doesn't know I'm listening to music on a slow part of my shift." She grinned winningly at them and took out her phone to check the time. "My God, are Fury and Hill actually late?"

It turned out to be Nick Fury and Maria Hill, as well as a member of the NYPD. Trailing behind them were other staffers at SHIELD, all looking concerned or worried at having been called in for yet another meeting. Darcy sat up a bit straighter in her seat and shifted her eyes to Clint and Skye. All the earlier banter about the sexy veterans stopped as well, and everyone sat more or less at attention.

"I know I've been talking to you all about the murders that were nearby, so that you aren't caught by whatever loony tune thinks he can hack up people," Fury began without preamble. "Turns out, it's not just around here that has a problem with dead bodies."

Murmurs erupted, but no one said anything outright. Maria introduced her friend James Rhodes, still an active detective in the NYPD. "Unfortunately, there are more dead bodies than people are aware about," Rhodes told them gravely, looking over the crowd. "Now, I can't go into details, since that would compromise the investigation, which is ongoing. But I can tell you this much: whoever it was that attacked these people was tall and strong. The victims didn't even put up a struggle some of the time, so they probably didn't even know what was happening. Our ME right now is suggesting that they were drugged, and the exsanguination is to complicate the tox screens."

"Are you allowed to even be telling us this?" Leo Fitz asked. He was one of the servers, and a student at NYU with aspirations to be an engineer. Jemma Simmons, a fellow server and pre-med student, looked anxious where she sat beside him. She kept running her fingers over his knuckles, almost absently, before he finally stopped her by lacing their fingers together.

Rhodes looked unhappy to even be saying this much, and glanced at Maria. "If you weren't such a good friend," he grumbled at her, which confirmed that this was all a favor to her.

She gave him a warm smile and grasped hold of his arm before addressing the SHIELD staff. "Basically, there was another one found last night. More uptown than here, but I'm pretty sure this is what they'd call a serial killer. We think we’ve got his profile figured out: pale, decently long black hair, thin. Fast."

Natasha’s blood turned to ice. As much as NYC had its reputation for danger, it had actually been relatively safer to walk around at night. Fewer homeless and drug addled loitering in the streets, fewer dangerous elements. To have the murder rate abruptly rise was worrying, and the description? Clint looked over in her direction and caught her gaze. That description complicated things a bit. 

"I don't want to play Mom and tell you all to stay in, but this is worrying me. Most of the bodies were found downtown, and some not too far from here. Stay safe. This isn't going away. I think a lot of you have taken some self defense courses. I thought instead of talking about the financials, a better use of our time is to go over some basic hand to hand and escape tactics. I don't want to see any of your faces in the morning paper. Got it?"

They all got the message, loud and clear. Rhodes, Maria, and Fury divided the staff into pairs and trios to work on some grabs and holds, and how to get out of them. Because of the clear concern etched on Maria's features, even Darcy and Skye didn't tease anyone or joke during the session. They took the training exercise seriously, practicing with determined expressions. That warmed Natasha's heart a little; she liked them, and didn't want to have to get new roommates.

Once time was up, they were all sent to their usual locations and shifts. Rhodes stayed behind with Maria and Fury, making Natasha wonder if there was more to the story than what had been said. When the lunch rush came in, however, she was too busy taking orders and serving customers that she forgot to continue wondering about current events.

***

There was something else going on that Loki felt like he was on the very edge of, unable to see anything that might tell him otherwise, but there was a damn _feeling_ that just wouldn’t go away. The bodies that had begun to accumulate were impossible to ignore, even as he started to widen his hunting grounds to try and entice whomever it was that was coming after him to diversify as well. The more suspicion that arose near SHIELD the less likely it was that he’d be able to stick around, and as it was right then he wasn’t looking to relocate at all.

But he wasn’t looking to be found out, either. He’d gone for centuries without being discovered, he wasn’t about to start then. Certainly the thought worked in fiction, but in reality? He’d be obliterated. No one liked to know they were the prey and that there was something far older, far stronger, that could pick you off at any moment. 

Why else was it that cows were forced to look the other way before they were slaughtered? 

He waited around SHIELD in the evenings, even after he’d left the shop and Natasha, hanging around in the swallowing darkness of the back alleys, listening to the chatter going on inside and keeping his eyes peeled for anyone or anything that could’ve tipped him off to this being used as someone else’s feeding ground. He was hoping for a pair of bite marks on the neck of a passerby, fresh or otherwise, but remembered that whomever it was that was feeding on them wasn’t leaving them alive, or any real trace of vampirism. Not explicitly at least. The slash on the throat was meant to look as though they’d been drained of blood that way, and while it covered up the bite marks well enough, it wasn’t as though the authorities and medical examiners couldn’t tell that the body had been bled almost entirely dry before the throat was cut. 

It would be one thing if his competition was being _smart_ about it, but they weren’t. If anything they were simply attracting more attention to the situation, and he gritted his teeth when nothing turned up after a couple of evenings. How many more was he expected to wait around? Every hour he was out here he was missing out on time with Natasha, or time feeding. There were several vastly more important things he’d rather do that skulk out, alone, in the dark, and it was after two weeks that he decided he’d had enough. He couldn’t sense, or smell, another vampire around within the vicinity, and there hadn’t been a death in that time, so perhaps his presence had been enough to keep them from coming any closer. 

He ran, almost head on, into Clint Barton as he was stepping out of the shadows and making his way in the direction of his apartment. A good thing he looked paler than normal, it made it easier to explain his negligence at looking where he was going. He could practically smell Barton’s thinly veiled suspicion at him still being there, even though he’d left the cafe nearly two hours ago. 

“Hey, Loki. Everything okay?” 

He hardly sounded concerned, and Loki couldn’t blame him. For a split second he was silent, debating with himself whether it would be worth the trouble to feed on him and wipe his memory of it, and of running into him, but no. He couldn’t. This man meant something to Natasha, Loki could see that in the way she regarded him both in person and in speech. To hurt him would ruin any semblance of trust she’d ever had in him. 

Instead, Loki mustered the weakest smile he could. “I, ah, passed out in the back. Don’t tell Natasha, will you?” he asked, looking worried about it, ashamed almost. Perhaps he was laying it on too thick, digging his toe into the dirt as though he was too embarrassed of the truth. 

Clint bought it, and the nervous crease in his brow lessened. “C’mon in, everyone else went up already for the night but I’ll get you some water and we’ll call a cab to get you home.” 

Loki’s face split into a gracious smile. “You’re too kind.” 

He followed the blond inside, past the darkened doorstep and into the dimly illuminated kitchen where Clint could draw him a cup of cool water. He took solace in the chill of the ceramic between his fingertips, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take a few more sips before his body would reject it, so he was careful to take them only when Clint looked directly at him. 

“You really are sick, aren’t you?” Clint asked with something akin to wonder in his voice. Loki lofted an eyebrow at the accusation. 

“I’m afraid so,” he said archly, and Clint shook his head. 

“Sorry, that came out wrong. Nat--well, you’ve seen her. She gets a lot of attention. She’s funny, cute, and smarter than half the people I know. Not that that’s saying much, but still. Customers flirting with her is a regular occurrence, but they don’t tend to stick around or weigh as heavily on her mind as you have. So I’m a bit cautious. She’s as close to a sister as I’ve got, and I’m not keen on anything happening to her.” He sighed and looked down, shaking his head. One of his hands was bandaged, as though he’d been in a fight recently, and he ran it through his cropped, short hair. “I’m sorry, none of this is coming out the right way. The people here? We’re a family. We’re about all any of us has, so we tend to watch out for each other. You can understand, of course, why it is I’m skeptical.” 

“Of course,” Loki said quietly, meeting Barton’s gaze when he looked back up with a small sip of water. “I have no intention of hurting her. I don’t think I could.” 

It wasn’t the entire truth, but he meant it. 

“I can always bring my medical records in if you’d prefer further proof, though.” The corner of Loki’s lips tilted upwards, and Clint snorted. 

“Nah. You’re about white as a sheet of paper, and you’re trembling. I believe you.” 

Finally. He ought to have pretended to pass out before. Still, while they were on the subject of Natasha and her customers, he couldn’t help but probe. “Has she had a lot of suitors come to the cafe, then?” He wondered whether or not he’d have competition for her affections, though the idea in itself was mildly ridiculous. He could simply just do away with them if he did--. 

No. No. He couldn’t do that. She’d never forgive him if she ever found out. 

Clint snorted. “Worried about the competition?”

“I’m a sick man, please indulge me.” Yes sick. Sick for playing with his food, as Odin had always called it, looking down on Loki’s attachments. Sigyn had been a passing fancy in comparison to how he felt about Natasha, though. He’d make her immortal if he was ever given the chance, but he feared it would only alienate her further. If this was a family as Barton had said, did Natasha feel the same way? Would she ever forgive him for ripping her from it, forcing her to watch the decay of the people she loved while she could do nothing about it? 

Was he doomed to repeat the mistakes of his adopted parents by doing so?

***

Ava shouldn't have stayed so late after school, but it never occurred to her that her ride would leave her stranded and shit outta luck. It’d meant she would’ve had to wait for the bus to take her crosstown to the subway station, and of course she missed it. At first she waited at the stop, but when the bodega behind her started feeling creepy instead of comforting, waiting another fifteen minutes didn't seem like a good idea anymore. She started walking along the bus route, hoping she would get part of the way to the subway station when the bus arrived, and at least it would help her feel a bit warmer. She got cold easily, and standing still next to a metal pole without any shelter had already started making her feel chilled.

Unfortunately, she didn't really take the neighborhood into account. She hadn’t looked out the windows the last couple times she’d ridden the bus, usually preoccupied with her headphones in as she played games on her phone or else read a book. It never seemed to be important to her before. The route was simply the most direct, and she didn't get off before the subway stop anyway.

Now she was cursing herself in hindsight. The street was inhabited with dark, mostly closed up shops and towering brownstones overhead. The basement windows were all either barred or boarded up, metal gates around the stairs up into the buildings or down to the basement level. A restaurant with an awning up ahead was open, but it seemed to be fairly subdued. Probably because it was in the middle of the block, on a quiet side street.

She was the only one walking down the street, but Ava swore she heard an echo to her footsteps behind her.

Pausing, Ava pretended to check her watch. It had been only a few minutes since she left the bodega and the bus stop, too early to expect the bus to come lumbering past. There was no echo at the moment, so she began to walk again.

And so did the echo.

Living in New York as a petite Latina meant that Ava knew that walking along a dark street at night was generally a Very Bad Idea. She had mace in her jacket pocket, a number of self defense courses under her belt, and could easily threaded her keys between her fingers. She wasn't stupid, and wasn't completely helpless. The creepy bodega suddenly felt far less creepy, but it was only another block or two to the next bus stop, and she was fairly sure that the bus would be arriving soon.

She hoped. She really, really hoped it would.

Maybe it was only her overactive imagination. Maybe it was the news reports getting to her, random people down in Wall Street or the Village having been found slashed and bled out. But maybe it wasn't the serial killer beginning to stalk the streets behind her. It could have been a regular mugger or a straight up rapist, the kind of evil her mother warned her about when Ava insisted on attending school in the City. Ava's mother would have preferred her to stay closer to home, but she had wanted to prove that she could hack it, could deal with living in the city that never slept.

Now she wished that _some_ in the city slept.

Ava stepped a little livelier, reaching the end of the block. There weren't many cars coming down the avenue, but she still looked both ways. A little extra tilt in her head told her that she was being stupid and paranoid, that the street was empty behind her. Even so, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed, that she was in danger and she had to _get away._ Mama didn't raise a fool, and Ava knew to trust her instincts.

Crossing the street, she swore she heard a giggle and a female whisper "Don't play with your food." Maybe it came from one of the brownstones as she passed, but she wasn't about to look up or behind her to find out for sure. The chill down her spine, that awful dread, kept mounting.

She was in danger. She didn't know from what, but she was in trouble and had to get off the street as soon as possible. Which would have been better in a different neighborhood; even the avenue in this area was fairly vacant at this time of night. _Why was it so empty?_

Moving at a faster walk that she usually reserved for when she was late for class, Ava continued down the street. Laughter echoed behind her, but she knew that if she turned her head, no one would be there. She'd never heard things before, and she didn't think she was starting to hear things now. Someone was back there, toying with her, enjoying the terror rising in her. It was probably the serial killer, and Ava's throat constricted with her fear.

The laughter was louder now, and closer. Unable to stand it anymore, she broke into a flat out run, seeing the sign for the bus stop on the next street. If she could make it there, even though the bus wasn't due yet, she would survive. Somehow, she would be able to survive. She had to hang onto that thought, however improbable it was, and it drove her to run faster.

Ava made it across the next avenue when she crashed bodily into someone. The breath was knocked out of her, and she looked up. There was pale skin and dark hair, just as the police had told news anchors was the likely description of the serial killer. The teeth in that wicked smile were sharp, too sharp, too long and pointed.

They were buried in her throat before she could draw breath to scream.

***  
***

Skye and Darcy had finally convinced Natasha to leave the apartment above SHIELD and go to one of their favorite dive bars in Alphabet City. Natasha didn't see the appeal of the place, which was dingy and overcrowded, full of hipsters all full of themselves and thinking they were so witty for quoting dead poets. She didn't need an English degree from NYU for that thanks to the Internet, but it was a move she saw as desperate more than flattering. Skye seemed to think it was charming, and chatted animatedly with a pre-med student named Lincoln. That left Darcy sitting with Natasha, commenting on all the muscly dudes taking up space at the bar.

"I still don't see why you like it here," Natasha groused as she tapped her fingers on the wood of the bar. She might not have gotten claustrophobic--no room to when the restaurant was often cramped and crowded--but there was something about this particular place that had her heart beating a little faster and her hackles rising. She didn’t _like_ it, but at least the company was good. 

"Nobody knows us," Darcy said with a shrug. "And you need to get out more. Jesus, I only see you flirt with that customer, and you stay in and read. You need a life, Nat. Preferably one that warms your bed and gives you tons of earth-shattering orgasms."

Snickering, Natasha shook her head. "If you think that's going to shock me..."

"Oh, no, I know it won't. Nothing does," Darcy told her with a smile, adjusting her glasses as her gaze turned pointed. "But your little flirty buddy at SHIELD, at least he's pretty to look at."

"As if I'd flirt with anyone that wasn't," Natasha teased, taking a swig from the longneck she'd ordered. The burn of the beer dragged down her throat, raising a pleasant shiver from her spine. 

Skye gave a laugh at that. "Of course you have. I've watched you and gotten all grossed out. No tip is worth that much."

"Loki tips well." It felt a little odd, admittedly, the way Natasha felt the need to defend him given that she hardly even knew him. Not really, at least. 

"Loki," Darcy repeated, drawing out the syllables. "Hey, Skye!" she looked over at their roommate. "What do you think of the name Loki?"

"Weird. Maybe a hippie." She shrugged. "Then again, I can't talk. You don't want to know what my parents wanted to name me."

Natasha laughed, remembering the conversation they'd had on names a long time ago. "Loki said he's a writer. And he tips really well."

"Nice," Skye said appreciatively, smiling at Natasha. "What's he write?"

She stopped to think about it. "Hm... He told me something vague a while ago. I want to say novels."

Skye paused as she considered it, taking a sip of her own drink before setting it down. "Then you'd think he would show off what he's written," Skye commented, whipping out her ever present phone. "What's his last name?"

Natasha frowned at her, trying to think. "I don't know."

"Well, what does it say on his credit card?"

"He always pays in cash."

"Seriously?" Skye scoffed, putting her phone down on the table. "Weird hippie sounding dude writes novels he won't try to pawn off of everyone and their mother, pays in cash and looks like a Goth. And he lives in the city, right?"

"I assume so." Natasha shifted uncomfortably in her seat; she didn't actually know where he lived. He had been vague on that, too.

"Wow. Either he's loaded or he's some kind of creepy stalker."

"As long as he's not the creepy killer leaving bodies all over the place," Darcy said, leaning in closer, "I say, take his money and keep him at arm's length."

Natasha squirmed in her seat again, and took a sip of her beer as she tried to think of something to say. Usually her internal radar for creepers was really good, and Loki hadn't set it off too badly. He would’ve if it was serious, or at least she was pretty sure. "I like him," she admitted.

"Well, that's fine, but I wouldn't trust him," Skye said with a lazy shrug of her shoulders. "Makes me wish I had some kind of facial recognition software." She picked up her phone and started poking at it. The illumination from her screen reflected back in her eyes, making her look a touch mad. She’d been spending too much time with Bruce and his mad scientist persona was beginning to rub off. "Maybe I can find a free one."

"Don’t go over the top, guys. Please," Natasha pleaded in between a groan and an eye roll. They meant well, she knew, but still. C’mon. They had to trust that she knew what she was doing, just like Clint did.

"Well, I'd look him up on Facebook," Darcy pointed out, "but you don't have a last name for me to work with. And dude, there are way too many Lokis online right now."

"Are you seriously looking through it now?" Natasha blurted, not sure why she was even surprised.

"When am I _not_ on social media?"

"Point," Natasha laughed.

"Maybe if you were actually dating, I'd be less worried," Skye murmured, putting her phone away.

"Worried?" Natasha scoffed, shaking her head.

"Yeah, well, you're the one usually taking care of us, you know?" she said with a shrug. "And so instead of you doing all the den mothering thing, our turn. You need a life outside of work. I mean, I know we're awesome, so of course you want to hang out with us. But neither of us have the guy parts you really want, and anything with batteries kind of gets boring after a while."

"Maybe you just aren’t buying the right kind, Skye," Darcy began in a teasing note. That got a good laugh from the other two women, and Nat felt her shoulders begin to relax. "Anyway, we're not your mother. She would hound you for grandbabies if she's anything like mine, and wow, so not cool." Darcy took a sip of her drink. "If the pickings here are slim, we can go uptown to some ritzy place with a higher class level of guy," she offered.

"Or maybe I just want to spend some time with my friends."

"Of course you do," Skye responded, slinging an arm around Natasha's shoulders. "And we don't hang out outside of SHIELD enough. If we're not trying to pick anyone up, then maybe we should go to the karaoke bar down the street."

"I know how to sing," Natasha replied with a grin.

"So do I," Skye replied, putting a little attitude in her head roll as she smiled.

"I'm the one without rhythm," Darcy said, lifting both hands and laughing. "But I'll record everything and upload it to Facebook."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Just upfront, I’m calling the sultry love song," Natasha declared. "You do the pop star thing."

Skye laughed. "Everything you sing turns sultry, Nat."

"The lips," Darcy replied, getting to her feet and shrugging on her coat. "And you know, fellow endowed chica," she said, pointing to her own chest. "Big lungs, you can really belt it out."

Natasha snickered, finishing off the rest of her beer in a couple swallows as Skye waved for their bill. "You sure you only date guys?"

"So far," Darcy said cheerfully. "But if you feel like trying to swing the other way, I'm down to try it out. Heads up though, I'm not a cheap date," she added mock sternly. "I fully expect to be wined and dined appropriately before you take me home and have your wicked way with me."

It was so ludicrous that Natasha guffawed and drew the annoyed attention of other patrons. "How do I know that _you_ won't have your wicked way with _me?"_

"I'm not the one with the really filthy porn and erotica on my computer."

"Yes, you are! You gave me at least half of it!"

Darcy looked up with a proud smile on her face. "Oh. Yeah, I did."

"You guys are ridiculous," Skye declared. "And some of that crap on _your_ computer," she added to Darcy, "is just terrible and made to be laughed at."

"Well, it's not like you watch for the dialogue."

"If there is any," Natasha intoned.

As much as she enjoyed the time with Darcy and Skye, some part of her wondered what kind of song Loki would sing if he came to the karaoke bar with her. He would undoubtedly enjoy her rendition of "Fever," if the other male patrons of the karaoke bar were anything to compare him to, but she wanted to see his expression for herself.

Okay, so maybe she was a little more interested in this mystery man than she intended to be.

***

Loki smiled at Natasha as he came into the cafe, heavy sweaters hiding his lanky frame, a knit cap covering his dark hair. On top of this was a raincoat with its hood pulled up over his head. His smile turned self conscious as she looked at him curiously. "I was feeling cold today."

"I think we might actually be getting an Indian summer," Natasha commented, weaving her way to his side through the tables. Darcy would have sighed at her if she was on shift, or asked for Loki's last name so as to immediately look him up. The thought made Nat’s smile a little warmer. That wasn't a bad idea, actually. Maybe it would shut her roommates up.

"Publish your book yet?" she asked, watching him peel off the layers until he was only in jeans and a gray cardigan over a black shirt. It was almost like a college professor look, which suited him. "I could buy a copy and have you autograph it for me."

He gave her a wan smile that spoke to the opposite. "My agent didn't think it was good enough."

"If you don't mind it, I could always look over the manuscript, give you a few pointers to spice it up."

It wasn't panic in his eyes, but it definitely wasn't a happy look. "I'm actually going to take a break from the book. I don't want to burn myself out."

"I guess," Natasha shrugged. "What about your other books? I can look them up at the bookstore. Or maybe I could get a deal if I order a copy from you?" she teased.

Now he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh. Well. From our conversation before, I would assume you wouldn't like them. They don't have a woman as the hero. Old fashioned of them, really. It wouldn't be so very interesting for you, I'm sure." He pasted a smile on his face and folded his hands in his lap. "Do you have a particular coffee flavor you would like to recommend to me?"

"Are you ashamed of what you write?"

"No, no, it's not that," Loki sighed. "But I doubt anyone likes that sort of thing."

"Let me be the judge of that. I've taken lots of lit courses, so you'd be surprised what sort of thing I like to read in my spare time."

Natasha was surprised to see him grin at her. "Really? I do so enjoy the classics."

They talked about various novels she had read as part of her Great Books classes, yet somehow she still didn't manage to get the title of his own book or what his last name was. She frowned at him a little when he paid in cash, leaving a generous tip.

"What is it?" he asked in concern.

"Are you hiding from someone?" she asked bluntly.

Loki blinked in surprise. "What? Why would you ask me that?"

"I don't know your last name. I don't know what you write. You pay in cash so I can't track you down."

That came out wrong, and the laugh he answered with was perhaps a little forced. “Are you trying to?” His eyes were bright, but his smile didn’t soften them up any and, if anything, made him look more suspicious than anything else. 

Nat swallowed thickly, and allowed herself a small blush. “I was trying to look you up on Facebook, yeah,” she said. It wasn’t so much a lie as a stretched truth. He didn’t need to know that it wasn’t necessarily her that had been searching. She didn’t think Darcy would ever forgive her for ratting her out like that. “And--well, apparently Loki’s a pretty popular name. And you never pay with a card, so I can’t just be a creep and look you up from that.” She looked down, digging her toe into the floor and chewing on her cheek. _Please let him buy it, please let him buy it._

His dark, bemused laugh told her, without having to look, that he had. “I’m afraid you won’t find me on Facebook anyway, even with my last name. I’m not on there.” 

“Oh.” Darcy would be pissed. “Well, maybe you need a social media presence to help your books along.” She chanced a glance up at him, glad to find that the curious stare he’d presented her with before had vanished, replaced instead with a warm smile. “Twitter?”

“What?”

She laughed. Wow. “Okay, well you should probably talk to your agent about getting one. I’ve heard they do wonders.” 

“I’ll consider running it by my agent,” Loki assured her as he leaned back in his seat. “I’m perhaps old fashioned to a fault.” 

She arched a brow. “In the sense that you use LiveJournal?”

“In the sense that I don’t have need for any of it. It’s too distracting.” 

Ah. Hippie indeed. Nat just smiled and bit at her bottom lip. She felt the heat of his gaze being drawn closer to that, and looked up at him through her lashes. “So. Possibly asking you out over Facebook messenger is a no go, but how about a phone number? You do have one of those, right?” 

She’d never seen someone grab their phone so quickly and offer it up to her, eager to add her digits in.

***  
***

As much as she wanted to say that Rhodes’ warning and description of the man they were going after didn’t weigh on her mind . . . Natasha had to admit that it did. Sure, there were bound to be a plethora of men that had long hair, were fast, and pale, living in New York City. The place was a breeding ground for all kinds of strange people, and then they bred and the process continued. So it really shouldn’t have stuck in her head that there was the possibility of Loki being the perpetrator, should it? She was just being ridiculous and paranoid.

But then he’d say something way off base, tell her that she smelled wonderful or that she looked like an ancient goddess. He’d get this look in his eyes that made her skin burn not entirely with displeasure but the _intensity_ of it was, admittedly, astonishing. Flirting and whatnot aside, her curiosity was piqued by him and his attitude. She didn’t say a thing to Clint, didn’t want him to think that she was beginning to believe what he said about him being freaky, but in keeping it to herself found that it ate away at her brain all the more. 

So, one night, as her shift ended and Loki was leaving, she decided to take a little detour on her way to the grocery store. At least that was where she’d told him she was going to go, citing one that was in the the opposite direction of where he said his home was.

Following Loki through TriBeCa, Natasha noticed him giving the the evening's to-go box to some homeless men hiding in the stairs leading to a brownstone's basement. They also got the coffee, and he leaned in close to whisper something to the two men, one after the other. It was rather touching to see him do that, especially if food made him that sick. She thought of coming closer to talk to him, but instinct had her hang back.

Loki continued on his way and strolled out of TriBeCa and toward SoHo. The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, but Loki seemed to fall into step behind a wandering man that appeared drunk. He didn't call out to the man, but gradually closed in behind him. Frowning, Natasha clung to the shadows and followed a little closer, wondering what Loki was doing. He didn't move like a sick man anymore, but a graceful hunter. It was a startling change from how he usually seemed at SHIELD, and it made her stomach turn as she wondered just what he was going for, pretending to be ill for her. Her skin crawled at the thought.

What was his deal? This secret couldn't be a good one.

Hating to think that Clint's suspicions were right, Natasha continued to follow Loki, eyes sharp. He soon allowed the drunken man to crash into him. They staggered into an alleyway, and there was a yelp of surprise soon after.

Hurrying to the alley, Natasha saw Loki bent over the man, mouth at his neck.

Wait, what? Mouth at his neck? Considering his flirting with Natasha at SHIELD, did that make him bisexual? Not that it mattered, but it made her feel a little bit flustered and dirty watching him with a random hookup.

Before she could turn and walk away Loki lifted his mouth from the man's neck. His lips were smeared dark in the shadowy alley, and he licked his lips clean while making an appreciative sound.

Natasha blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Dark smears on his lips, and fangs now visible in his mouth. He couldn't tolerate food or more than a few sips of coffee . . . .

When Loki dismissed the man, he looked up and saw her standing at the mouth of the alley. He froze, eyes wide with shock. "Natasha."

Her first instinct was to freeze and hope he didn't hurt her. But that was a stupid instinct, and she knew better than to stick around someone dangerous. There was a serial killer on the loose, one with dark hair who exsanguinated his victims. The description superficially matched Loki.

Natasha did what any smart New Yorker would have done: she turned and ran.

At first, Natasha thought her speed and agility got her far away. She couldn't hear footsteps behind her, and Loki had a drunk to deal with first. But he caught her arm and yanked her to him, one arm wrapped around her. His other hand was pressed over her mouth to muffle her scream.

Was she about to be the next victim in the newspapers?

"I have no wish to harm you," he said into her ear, sounding like he did at SHIELD. "I meant it when I said you make me feel alive. I am... rather attached to you, Natasha." He let out a slow breath. "If you promise not to scream, I will take my hand away and explain everything to you."

Though she didn't trust him now, the street was deserted, and he felt strong. Natasha had no other recourse than to nod.

Loki slowly removed his hand from her mouth and eased out of his aggressive stance. "Let me explain," he pleaded.

She could scream. She could run again. She could attack him.

What she did was remain still, giving him a haughty look, then crossed her arms over her chest. He hadn't drugged and exsanguinated her yet, and he constantly seemed to be looking for her good opinion, so there was a possibility that she could get out of this mess alive. She hoped she would live down Clint's "I told you so" in response to this.

"So explain it, then."

"I'm a vampire."

When he fell silent, Natasha lofted an eyebrow at him and lifted her chin a notch. She didn't believe it for a second, but didn't know where he would have hidden the knife and whatever tubing or syringe he had to have had to exsanguinate the victims. If she played it cool, he probably wouldn't think of killing her next for knowing too much. Probably.

"And?" she asked, voice imperious and unimpressed.

Loki blinked in surprise. "You... You're not shocked?"

"Do you know how many Goth kids in the Village call themselves vampires?" she asked, still sounding rather unimpressed. Running lines with various patrons at the shop definitely helped at a time like this."At least it's a unique excuse for what I saw. Most don't get cosmetic dentistry on their teeth or bite strangers in alleys, though."

"These are not the result of cosmetic dentistry," Loki replied with a frown. He actually leaned back a little, away from her, making her breathe a bit easier. "These are real."

Natasha snorted. "Sure. And I'm a lost princess."

"You can be _my_ lost princess, then," Loki replied with a charming smile. "For I truly am that creature of myth."

"Uh huh," Natasha replied. She had the urge to roll her eyes, but she remembered his strength and the string of bodies that had been turning up in the city. "So you just bit a guy and expect me to think that it's a normal thing?" she asked incredulously.

Loki was psychotic in the true sense of the word. The disconnect from reality was glaringly obvious, and made her disappointed in him and angry with herself. Was she destined to date losers? Every guy she had dated had something wrong with him. Maybe she should try dating a woman to see if her luck would change for the better.

"It's... extranormal, I suppose," Loki replied with a concerned frown.

"Or maybe lacking a few key medications?" Natasha asked, wishing she knew the name of antipsychotic meds on the market. Jemma would probably know, since she'd already started volunteering at a local clinic to pad out her resume a little for medical school.

Now it was Loki's turn to look confused. "Medications?"

"You're sick, right? Not really eating, looking so pale, biting people and drinking their blood..."

"Because I am a vampire," Loki said simply.

There had to be more logical explanations than vampirism. Like psychosis. As much as Natasha wanted to cross her arms and give him a long suffering look as she would if he said something stupid at SHIELD, they were pretty much alone on the street, and she wasn't stupid.

Instead, Natasha shook her head. "There are diseases looking like that, aren't there?"

"You don't believe me," Loki said, amazed.

"Why should I?" Natasha challenged, repositioning her feet so that she edged back a bit. He didn't seem to notice that, and she was thankful. If he made any motions indicating that he was planning to lunge for her, she would take off running again.

"Blood keeps me alive."

"It does that for everyone," Natasha snapped, shaking her head. This was surreal, and the fear was making her edgy. She probably shouldn't have said that.

Loki made a frustrated noise, like she was being willfully obtuse. "I must drink blood in order to survive."

"Exsanguination," she said, edging a little further back.

"Well, it doesn't have to be total," Loki huffed. "But yes, I need the living blood. Once it's been drawn out and stored with chemicals, it loses most of the nutritive value that I need. What you saw was me feeding."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. Loki was clearly crazy. He had to be the killer everyone was looking for, and the only way she would be able to tell Rhodey was to get away alive.

Natasha shook her head. "I've got to go."

Loki actually looked desperate and panicky, reaching out for her. Natasha skipped backward a few steps to get up momentum to run; he probably realized she was going to report him, and that meant she was _this close_ to death.

"Please, Natasha, wait," he pleaded. It sounded almost like the voice he used when she had to turn down his requests to walk her home or assist with her errands.

It sounded normal. The pained tone of someone that missed her, even though she wasn't gone yet, and for some stupid reason, it still tugged at her. Maybe that was why she didn't do more than skip back another step or two to be sure she was outside of arm's length.

She swallowed thickly. "Give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't run right now."

"I couldn't hurt you, Natasha," Loki said, pleading still. His hand dropped to his side. "I don’t want to lose you. I care about you. It matters to me what you think."

How in the hell was she supposed to believe that? "You've done nothing but lie to me since the day we first met."

"No, I haven't." He grimaced. "Well, I did when I said I loved coffee. It tends to make me feel ill."

"And you hang around a coffee shop why?"

"To see you."

As if that made things better. "So you're stalking me."

God, that seemed almost worse than the fact that he was the killer the NYPD was looking for. At least the exsanguinated bodies were abstract. Here was a guy she had liked and flirted with, and he was stalking her. Even her loser ex boyfriends hadn't ever done that.

"No!" he cried, desperation and sincerity in his tone. "I just... I know you work there. I know you care about the others that work there, like they're family to you. And... I like how the atmosphere is in the shop. It truly does feel like family, and I haven't had such a thing for hundreds of years."

She wished she could say that she was listening to the warning bells going off in her head, that she was going to turn tail and run and scream to get away from him, or at least tell him to stay away. Truthfully? He intrigued her, and he seemed to be honest with her now. At least, he was being emotionally honest with her. There was no way in hell he could be alive for hundreds of years, because that vampire line was bullshit thanks to the sparkling idiots in movies.

Natasha bit her lip and watched his gaze flicker as he watched her. "I think you have a lot more explaining to do, Loki. If that's even your real name."

Loki sighed. "It is. Perhaps we can go somewhere more comfortable to speak?"

"Do you think I'm going anywhere with you?" Natasha asked incredulously. She absolutely wasn't going to be alone in a dark alley or an empty street with him; there were bound to be potential witnesses at the diner.

He sighed again. "There's over twelve hundred years of history to cover."

That threw Natasha. "Twelve hundred years?" she echoed. How crazy _was_ he?

"Yes. And I didn't necessarily mean that we go to my apartment or to yours." The wry smile he shot her meant that he understood her reasoning, without having to be told. "A public place is fine, as long as you feel comfortable with me. I want you to feel safe."

It was at least a point in his favor that he hadn't come after her yet. And maybe she could get some information for Rhodes to track him down. She didn't know where he lived, after all, or why he was going after these people or how he picked his victims. If Loki wasn't about to kill her, and he seemed like he truly didn't want to, then she could probably use that emotion against him in some way. Or at least to help others while keeping herself alive. The serial killer had to be caught to keep the people of the city safe, especially in her neighborhood.

She nodded in the direction of uptown. "Fine. There's a twenty-four hour diner up that way." 

"Lead the way. We can speak en route."

Loki's story emerged in fits and starts. He had been born mortal in what was now Norway, a learned man in his village. He was investigating an odd murder when Frigga found him. Enchanted with his intellect, she turned him and claimed him as her son. He was part of the royal court of vampires as a result, and spent several centuries with that family. He learned many things, and always felt lesser in comparison to the more warlike members of the family. He had finally decided to break free of them and go to the New World by himself.

"I have control enough not to kill, if that's what you fear."

"So you're not leaving bodies all over the city." She managed to contain her disbelief, though the part of her that liked him was relieved and wanted to believe his story.

"Of course not!" Loki replied, affronted. "There's no call to lead authorities to my door. I wish to live in peace and explore the world at my leisure."

It seemed genuine enough of a response to Natasha, so he likely wasn't the source of the dead body seen near SHIELD some time ago. But still, that didn’t explain why he came around to SHIELD all the time. 

"What do you want from me, then?" Natasha asked.

"To talk," Loki replied. "My days are so long and empty otherwise."

"And now?"

Loki sighed. "I suppose my ruse of food and drink is no longer necessary. Though the tastes _were_ wonderful to experience. I simply derive no sustenance from it."

Natasha looked at him closely. "You were drunk when we started talking, weren't you?"

"From the gentleman's blood, yes," Loki replied.

"So you can get effects from the blood?"

"Yes. Essences of drugs or foods pass into it, so I can almost have a similar experience. Depends on who I find on the streets," Loki admitted. "I tend to nip a little here and there off homeless or the drunk wanderers, as you saw tonight."

"That doesn't seem very reliable," Natasha commented, frowning a bit.

"I survive," Loki replied with a careless shrug. "I don't plan to decimate the populace. I take what I need and generally keep to the shadows." He gave her an intense look. "I have heightened senses. There are very few able to sneak up on me, yet you were able to do so tonight."

"I suppose I'm special that way," Natasha said dryly.

"Yes, you are," Loki told her sincerely.

Natasha seemed disconcerted by that, and sat up straighter in her seat. "Well," she murmured, at a loss of what to say next.

"You believe I am what I say I am," Loki pressed.

She looked at him carefully, then nodded. She’d seen it with her own two eyes, hadn’t she? If not for that, then she would’ve called him crazy. "Yes, I do."

"What will you do with that knowledge?"

Thinking for a moment, Natasha finally mimicked his earlier shrug. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see. If you really are the kind of vamp that'll leave bodies everywhere, then I'll just have to figure out what to do about you. If you're really just hanging around the shop because you're bored otherwise, then I have no reason to toss you out."

Loki smiled. "I remember just how capable of that you are."

Natasha nodded at him with a mirthless smile. "So I guess we have an understanding."

Putting out his hand for her to shake, Loki let his smile widen. "Friends, then?"

"That's a bit much, isn't it?"

"Who else would know and keep such a secret as this?" Loki reasoned.

He had a point. "All right," Natasha agreed after a moment. She took his hand and shook it firmly. "Friends."

"Now, friend," Loki said with a serene smile on his face, "how about we converse about a topic of your choosing? The discussion of food had always been the topic at SHIELD, but that's work related. What would you like to talk about? Odds are good I would know _something_ about whatever you choose. The curse of the long lived," he added with a rueful edge.

Thinking about it for a moment, Natasha leaned back in her seat and smiled. "Ballet."

They talked until an hour before sunrise, when Loki had to leave to get back home and hide from the coming dawn. "I'll see you at SHIELD," Loki promised.

"I look forward to it," Natasha told him. It seemed to surprise him as much as her that she meant it.

***  
***

"I know you're supposed to be pale," Natasha remarked quietly as Loki warmed his hands with a cup of coffee, "but you're looking downright deathly. And I don't think that's something you really wanted to look like, right?"

Loki gave her a wan smile and brought the cup to his lips for a small sip. His insides churned uneasily, but he could at least taste the flavorings that Darcy had recommended earlier that day. "I haven't been out in some time," he admitted softly.

"You've been here every night without fail for weeks with a cup of coffee."

"I haven't hunted," Loki murmured.

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to risk you stumbling across me again," Loki admitted. "I wouldn't want to truly startle you. Or frighten you. You're tough," Loki said, raising a placating hand. "But knowing what I am and then seeing me as I feed are two different things. I wouldn't want you to think less of me."

"So instead you starve yourself."

"I can control my hunger, if that's what you fear. This isn't the first time I've gone a month without feeding properly. It likely won't be the last."

"And you miss food, don't you?"

His brows pulled down in confusion. "Why would you say that?"

She shrugged. "You hang out in a coffee shop restaurant. You've tried food and whatever I suggested to drink. You said you can taste things."

"The essences of flavors in blood, yes."

"And you can taste it from who you drink from. Like the alcohol from that guy weeks ago."

"Exactly," Loki said with a nod.

There had been talk of another body found in Alphabet City the week before. Loki had been at SHIELD consistently, and had been there on the night the victim had gone missing, so he couldn't be the one leaving bodies around. Or at least, not _all_ of them. She still wasn't entirely convinced that he was a vampire or wasn't the serial killer that the NYPD was looking for, and that slight sliver of doubt had kept her from contacting Rhodey. It would be awful if he was truly innocent, or if he was mentally ill and only delusional. She had felt like she was doing something wrong by keeping silent, but the blurb on New York One about the body in Alphabet City made her feel almost vindicated. Loki wasn't the killer.

But then, that meant there was _another_ vampire out there in the city.

Thinking for a moment, Natasha came to a decision, and her lips curved into what she knew was an enticing smile. "What if _I_ ate and drank stuff, and let you drink from me to taste it?"

Loki goggled at her. "Are you serious? You would be willing to do so?"

"I kinda like our conversations," Natasha admitted with a smile. "It would be a shame for them to end, and if you’re telling the truth, and you don’t want to hurt anyone, then I guess that applies to me.”

"Doubly so. Exponentially. I've grown to really love New York. Harming people here would do nothing but force me to leave it. And you."

"Will it hurt?" she asked softly.

"There are ways to avoid pain," Loki admitted, wetting his bottom lip. She watched his pupils dilate with anticipation. "Some could even find it pleasurable."

"Care to demonstrate?"

_"Here?"_ Loki cried, startled. "Hardly."

"Not here," Natasha told him, using that same quiet voice to ensure they weren't overheard. "I have an apartment in the building. Or we could use yours."

Loki mulled over that information. It explained why he didn't see her enter or exit the building just before her shift times. "Which would you feel most comfortable in?"

Natasha sighed. "Probably not either. But if we tried it upstairs first, I have people that will come running if you fuck it all up. I doubt your neighbors know what you are."

"No, they don't. And I'd rather keep it that way."

"My shift ends in two hours. I'll find you so we can give this a try." She leveled him with a firm expression. "But if I don't like it, it's never happening again."

"I would never wish to harm you, Natasha. I promise you this."

She nodded, though the edge of skepticism remained. He would have to show her by example that he was trustworthy, that he cared about her, that he truly wanted only her companionship.

"It wouldn't even have to be much, if you fear it. A small amount in a cup or spoon, perhaps? I won't even touch you, if that would put your mind at ease."

Contemplating him for a moment, Natasha grabbed his coffee cup. "Let me freshen that up for you."

Confused by the abrupt movement, Loki nodded. She went toward the back, and came back a few minutes later with his cup and a bandage on her thumb. The cup appeared to have had half its contents dumped out of it, and he frowned at her. At her pointed look, he took a cautious sip of the coffee, immediately tasting the addition of blood to it. He sucked in a mouthful, the blood rolling across his tongue. The coffee didn't dull its flavor at all, and Loki couldn't help but smile up at her. "Chocolate and chai tea. Interesting combination."

"You can taste that under the coffee?" she asked incredulously. "That was just a spoonful."

"I've been quite the connoisseur in my time," Loki said with a chuckle. "I like this, actually. The accents along with the black coffee? It's a blend I could try again and again."

Natasha snorted. "Interesting choice of creamer there," she deadpanned.

"Would you feel willing to find it for me again?" he asked, hope coloring his tone.

"We'll see." She eyed the bandage on her thumb, the pad already dark with blood. "Not exactly the most efficient way to get it for you."

"If you would let me," Loki murmured, reaching for her hand. Both of them quickly looked around, but no one was paying any attention to them. She gave him a quick nod, and he peeled the edges of the bandage off. Putting her thumb in his mouth, he brushed his tongue across the cut in the pad. He couldn't help but suck slightly, savoring the taste of her, untainted chocolate and chai tea along with something that he identified as _Natasha,_ reminding him of the scent of her skin beneath the lotions and perfumes she put on.

When he gently pulled her thumb from his mouth, the cut was sealed.

"How did you do that?"

"We'd hardly be good predators if signs of our passing were so easy to find," Loki scoffed. "Just as there is something in our saliva that could make the experience enjoyable for you, there is something there to be sure the wounds seal tight."

"Interesting."

"Good interesting?" he asked, hopeful again.

"Something to think about interesting," she replied, backing up a step. "Enjoy your coffee."

"Oh, I certainly will."

His eyes followed her around the dining area, the coffee up clutched in his hands. For once, by the time he left SHIELD, the cup was empty and he had nothing to give the homeless of the city.

***

Over the next few weeks, Natasha and Loki fell into a routine of talking at SHIELD on evenings it was her turn to close. She had thought it would be awkward, but somehow she still felt comfortable talking with him. If not for the fact that she now knew he was a vampire, she would have thought he was the same nice but odd patron that he seemed to be in the beginning.

She let him take her out to the ballet for their first date, having learned how much she’d loved it. She supposed something extravagant fit for Loki, and what she knew of him. He didn’t do anything by halves, that was damn certain, and though she’d been apprehensive when he’d first suggested the idea, once he’d come up with the tickets she hadn’t found a way to refuse. Nor had she wanted to. She didn’t want to ask, or know, how it was he came across the tickets when they’d been sold out, but the box seat he’d reserved was exceptional at best. And still, it was a hell of a way to impress a girl. 

Darcy and Skye had teased her when she’d been getting ready, surprised that Nat was going out on a date, but it’d all been in good fun, and Natasha had been giddy with nerves and excitement for the first time in a long while when Loki came around to pick her up. She’d gone with the nicest dress she owned, black lace with a tight bodice and a low v-neck, with her long red hair pulled into a regulation bun. It wasn’t until they were out and into his car that she thought about how exposed her neck was, but the realization didn’t make her loosen the updo. With practiced ease she balanced on his arm, the black pumps she’d brought with her were just as comfortable as her sneakers, and she had to admit as he helped her from the car before the valet took it away that he looked dashing in a suit and tie himself. His black hair had been pushed away from his face, slicked back so that it brought out the sharp cheekbones, but there was a flush that had meant he’d fed recently. She didn’t ask about it, instead pressing all the closer to his side as he flashed their tickets and they were guided upstairs. 

They didn’t have to share the box with anyone else, and she wondered just how much he’d ended up shelling out for the whole thing to themselves. From their seats she’d be able to see everything, picking up the binoculars provided for them to stare at the crowds that’d gathered below them. Giselle always brought about a good crowd, and tonight would be no different. 

“Have you ever danced this piece before?” Loki asked, leaning over to murmur in her ear. The heat of his breath made her shiver, her gaze snapping back to him as she lowered the binoculars to her lap. 

“Once or twice, though not the full piece. Just a couple sections for auditions,” she admitted. “It’s a lovely work.” 

“But not your favorite?” He questioned, his brow puckering as though he worried he’d picked the wrong one. 

Natasha settled her hand over his and squeezed, smiling warmly. “Loki, this is perfect. I’m not so sure I have a favorite ballet. I suppose that’d be like asking you whether you have a favorite century--.” 

“Seventeenth.” 

She shot him a wry smile that asked if he’d really just answered her question, and he let out a quiet laugh. “Apologies. Continue?” 

“I was trying to say,” she nudged him where he sat. “I love them all for different reasons. Giselle is lovely, it’s a sweet tale that allows for the dancers to really show what they’re capable of emotionally, whereas technically speaking, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake is my favorite. But each of them have a key element that I love about them, so I can’t pick a clear favorite.” Her hand squeezed his, and he brought it up to his lips. When he kissed it, she swore she felt a brush of fang, and it made her shiver. Right. 

“Have you been to a ballet before?” She asked. They’d talked about her work in them, but never his involvement, whether it’d been minimal or if there’d been a great deal of it. 

He nodded. “Once or twice. First performances of them. I’d assumed I’d seen all I needed to, until you told me about the way that choreography changes with the passing years and the new dance instructors. So, I thought what better way to reeducate myself than to have you alongside me, teaching me?” 

She flushed at the implication, and would’ve opened her mouth to say something had the lights not began to dim, and the Overture began to play. The look on his face, the way his lips twisted, told her he’d timed it carefully enough, and as she threaded their fingers together and brought the binoculars up to her eyes she wondered just what it was she was getting herself into. 

For once, not knowing didn’t frighten her.

***

When it was her turn to choose, Natasha picked drinks and dancing. There was a cute bar out on West 8th Street that had good enough drink deals for her, and Loki didn’t seem to mind that he couldn’t have anything, more than happy to play her boyfriend-cum-designated-driver. The music wasn’t too bad, and the vodka made her head spin (or maybe it was the looks Loki kept shooting her every time her fingers would start drumming to a familiar song), and before too long she’d scooted her chair closer to his, offering him her hand.

“You said before you can get drunk from blood. So . . . do you want to try?” She was curious, and the alcohol in her bloodstream tended to make her reckless (putting it lightly), but mostly she craved the way his eyes lit up whenever she suggested something he desperately wanted. And now? Now they were bright as a Christmas tree. 

“Are you certain?” He asked, taking her hand in his own and bringing his lips to it. Their table was tucked far enough away that they wouldn’t be garnering much attention, and still she felt a shiver race up her back at the possibility that they could get caught. It felt so intimate to be asking him to try her blood, that she realized she still had on the tight red body-con dress she’d picked out that evening, that she wasn’t laid out naked for everyone else to see. There was a strange sense of vulnerability being this close to Loki gave her, and while it might’ve made her uncomfortable with anyone else with him? It was exciting. 

She nodded quickly. “I really am. I want to see how it feels. And I want to see you drunk, so long as I’m expecting it this time,” she teased. 

He paused, but nodded. Bringing the pad of her pointer finger to his lips, she gasped when she felt the tip of his tooth break the skin. Rather than pain, it morphed to pleasure, hot and completely untamable, coursing through her veins as he drank slowly. He wasn’t taking much, but the sensation was heady to the max. There was a strange tug behind her navel, her heart raced, and her cheeks filled with blood as her breathing became labored. When he’d drank his fill from that, she felt him slip his tongue over the small wound, and he turned his attention to the next one. The sensation was the same, and Natasha felt herself let loose a slow, quiet keen. His ears would’ve picked it up, surely, but no one else could’ve over the loud bass and thrum of conversation around them. She watched him stiffen, and his eyes, which had been closed when he’d first bitten, now opened to stare at her. They moved from her open mouth, which had long since gone dry, to the way her the fingers of her free hand dug into the table, and lower still to how her legs pressed hard together.

She’d have a hell of a night ahead of her with that feeling stored away for her personal, private time. 

She aimed to give him a few memories of his own when they took the dance floor, Loki a little less graceful than he had been previously. She’d fitted his hands to her hips and ground her ass back against him with such indecency she wondered how he could stand it. He pressed bruises to her skin and it felt as though he’d lit a matchstick underneath her skin, slowly burning her from the inside out as they gyrated and swayed to the hip hop thudding through the speakers. His skin was cool, even with the press of bodies around them, and she sought out as much skin on skin contact as she could get to take advantage of this. 

“You feel incredible,” she murmured back against him, her lips at his throat. He groaned and shivered. 

“You do, too. You taste it as well.” 

She smirked as she pulled away and looked up at him, sure that her eyes were spelling dirty. “Maybe if you’re a good boy I’ll let you see how else I taste.” 

She _felt_ his groan, and quite honestly it was a damn miracle he didn’t take her then and there given the look on his face. It’d been entirely worth it.

***

After closing out the shop, Natasha led him upstairs to her apartment; both Skye and Darcy were out for the evening and weren't expected to be back. If they had changed their minds and stayed in, the backup location was one of the common areas in the building that wasn't being used. That way Loki had some privacy for his feeding; Natasha thought she must be insane for trusting a vampire to know which lines should not be crossed, but Loki seemed to know when she was uncomfortable with his adoring words. She could tell he was infatuated, that he admired her, that he loved the taste of her blood, no matter what she ate or drank during the day.

Nipping small tastes off of her fingers didn't give Loki much blood during a feeding, so Natasha allowed Loki to try drinking from her wrist. It definitely lessened the mess involved with knives, and it didn't hurt past the initial sting at all. If anything, that sting would be like a sharp suction and a press of teeth, as if she nipped at her own skin. The difference was, Loki sucking her blood felt good, like a caress from the inside out, a warm flush spreading throughout her body.

It made her wonder what else she would feel if he bit other places.

Natasha was nothing if not brave, possibly outrageously so. She contemplated letting Loki bite her neck for days, and finally came around to the idea maybe three months after she had first cut herself for him. It must have been fate; both of her roommates were gone for the evening.

"So," Natasha began with a smile, sitting down next to Loki in her living room. "I want you to guess what I snacked on today."

Loki chuckled. The guessing game never got old, and she had started getting different items from the Food Emporium or from Bruce's testing area in the kitchen to dazzle his taste buds. He gently took her wrist, thumb stroking the skin over the veins there. "You do enjoy this," he murmured, lifting her wrist to his mouth. "You tease me so with this game."

"This is a tease?" she asked, an amused lilt to her voice. "What about if I offered you my throat?"

He froze at the purr in her voice, the sultry curl of her lips. "Are you certain?" he asked her hesitantly. "You already do me great favors, I wouldn't wish for you to feel unduly obligated."

"This isn't an obligation," she assured him, tugging him closer. "I'm curious. It doesn't hurt at my wrist..."

Cradling her elbow in one hand, Loki slid the other behind her shoulder. Tipping her forward, Loki met her gaze, sure that she could see the passion there. It was more than just her blood, but he would take whatever he could get from her. Was that sad and pathetic? It probably was. But he couldn't help it, and craved her presence as much as he craved her blood.

Though he hadn't asked her first, he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. It was a soft and sensual one, where he hoped she could feel his desire and intent to please her however he could. Her gasp of surprise parted her lips, and he touched his tongue gently to her lower lip. The surprise didn't last long, because then her tongue darted out to meet his, and the sensation immediately shot through him. It intensified when Natasha grasped his shirt and pulled herself closer, deepening the kiss and sliding her tongue into his mouth. He sucked on her tongue gently, keeping the kiss as deep as it was until she needed breath. Loki mouthed her jaw, then moved down as she tilted her head to the side, exposing the length of her neck to him. He dropped nibbling kisses along the slope, before licking a spot over her carotid and then biting down.

Blood burst into his mouth, hot and warm, tasting like Natasha and cherries and strawberries, whipped cream and something like coffee. He laughed and licked the wound shut, then kissed her neck over the spot. "Delicious."

Natasha had moaned as he had bitten her, and one of her hands had wound up tangled in his hair to hold him in place. "God, that felt so good. Do it again."

Loki bent down to her neck and bit her. The burst of blood into his mouth was just as good this time, and she clutched him close, head thrown back as she moaned in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck me," she moaned, arching into his grasp.

He cupped a breast with one hand and kept his other arm around her back to keep her balance. She mewled softly as he abraded the nipple through her clothing, then slid his hand down her torso to her jeans. He flicked the button open easily and unzipped the fly, then slid his hand inside her panties. Natasha was already growing damp, and she mewled again as he slid a finger inside her. Loki liked the sound of that, and licked the wound shut at her throat. "I can make you feel this way. I can have you trembling in my arms, calling my name, pulling at my hair and demanding more." He smiled sensuously as she moaned, clenching down around his finger. "Do you want my mouth on you or my cock in you?"

She licked her lips, and he could feel his cock harden with the promise in her gaze. "You can do that? Vampires have sex?"

"Older ones can control blood flow. So yes, I can be inside you, and it will feel glorious."

"Then do it," she said, shifting her hips so his fingers slid deeper into her. She grabbed his shirt and kissed him, roughly this time, lips and teeth and _need._

Loki didn't have to be told twice. Their clothes came off in a flurry of movement, mouths reconnecting once clothes were pulled out of the way. Loki ran his tongue over her lips and moved to her jaw as he tilted her backward, toward the back of the couch. He shifted to hover over her as she reached down between them to cup his cock in her hands. "Do vampires get diseases? Or could you get me pregnant?"

"No, and no," Loki murmured, hissing a little as her hand began to stroke the length of him. "Oh, that feels just criminal."

Natasha laughed, and ran her nails down his back with her free hand as she shifted her legs around his waist and tried to direct his cock right where she wanted it. "Then get in me. It'll feel that much better without any condom on."

"No, it'll be even better as I drink at the same time, if you'll let me."

She laughed, but it turned into a long and throaty moan as he slid into her wet heat. "Mmm. God, that feels so good." She threw her head back and moaned. "Yes, Loki. Fuck me hard, and bite me."

Of course it was too tantalizing an offer to resist for long. And he did try to resist, to hold out as long as he could, to simply drive into her as if he was an ordinary man, as if sex was all he had on his mind. She was tight around him, slick and warm, the scent of her heady and intoxicating. When Loki felt desire crest too high, he bit down into her throat, the warm carotid blood bursting into his mouth. He didn't take too much, not more than a mouthful or two, but it was enough to tip Natasha over into coming, nails digging into his back, her cries loud and lusty.

Loki lay on top of her afterward, grinning madly. It had been amazing all the way around. There was the physical sensation of sex, which had been wonderful and the first time he'd lain with a woman in over two hundred years. Then there was the blood, the intimacy of the act and her trust in him not to harm her or take too much. That meant so much to him, and warmed his lost soul.

"You're a fantastic woman, Natasha," he murmured. "I'm so glad to have met you."

She hummed a little, pleased with him. "Me, too." Natasha put her arms around him and kissed his temple fondly. "Don't go anywhere, huh?"

"Not planning to," he promised.

"Good," Natasha murmured. She closed her eyes and soon drifted off to sleep in his arms.

***  
***

Natasha didn't mind Skye's and Darcy's teasing, or Clint's occasional huffs of impatience if she had plans with Loki. She still hung out with them, and they didn't seem to mind if she wanted to invite Loki along with her for their movie nights in the abovestairs apartment. Loki brought two bottles of red wine, and carefully poured from one particular vintage for himself, and used the other bottle for the others. She sat on his lap on the couch, citing the limited amount of room in the common area. Draping her arm around his shoulders, it gave him access to her neck for a nip if he wanted to take one, but Loki seemed to be content with his special red "wine."

"Okay, he's not so bad," Clint admitted after Loki left with a lingering kiss for a goodbye. "I still reserve the right to do something nasty to his food if he hurts you."

Rolling her eyes, trying not to think about how ridiculous the threat was, Nat laughed as she cleared away glasses and popcorn bowls. "I am fully capable of spearing him with my stilettos, you know."

"But it's more fun if it's a group activity!" Darcy chirped happily. Skye just snorted and started picking the fallen popcorn out of the couch and carpet. "What? It's true. The friends that maim together stay together, you know."

"There is something deeply disturbing about that concept," Skye told her.

"And yet I can't find fault with the logic," Clint piped up.

"He's not stupid enough to hurt me," Natasha informed them firmly. "I would utterly destroy him if he ever tried to do that."

"Oooh, I like the sound of that," Darcy said, plopping onto the section of couch that Skye had just cleaned, ignoring the disgruntled cry that it caused. "Do tell. Some deep, dark, secret? Leaving a trail of bodies and broken hearts behind you? Should I call you a Black Widow?"

"Not funny," Natasha declared, tossing a piece of popcorn at her head. It unerringly hit her in the forehead before bouncing off toward Skye's feet.

"So funny," Darcy disagreed, grinning at her. "The other guys..."

"Are exes, losers, and not applicable to this conversation," Natasha said, her tone brooking no argument.

Darcy sighed and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "You're no fun."

"On the contrary," Natasha purred, heading to the communal kitchen. "I am _very_ fun. Just not with you, and not in any capacity I can share in polite company."

"We're not polite!" Darcy squeaked.

"No shit," Skye grumbled, pushing at her playfully. "Get up and help me clean up the couch, Darcy. You made most of this mess throwing popcorn at the screen."

"It's tradition at this point," she pouted.

"C'mon, Darce," Clint said, shaking his head. "It'll go faster if you clean up."

"Fine, fine. I feel like I'm at work."

"Leave your own place a mess, but not the communal areas. Fury will have a fit if you do."

"No, don't leave your own place a mess," Skye said, playfully glaring at Clint. "Because it's our place, too. Just because _you_ live in a pigsty..." Skye said, pointing at him. "I happen to like open space in an apartment, thank you very much. No clutter."

Natasha tuned out the rest of the banter as she started to wash out the glasses and bowls. It was a mindless little task, one that let her thoughts wander. Inevitably, she wondered about her relationship with Loki, how long or how far it would go. Sooner or later, they would have to discuss it. He was a bloodsucking immortal, she was an ordinary mortal. She grew older, he didn't. Movies always had the mortal lovers falling all over themselves to become immortal, too, but she didn't think she would enjoy that much. Her friends were here, and watching them grow old and die without her would utterly wreck her.

And on that morbid note, she headed off to bed. Her roomies went to their rooms, and Clint was crashing on her couch for the evening. There was work to do in the morning, and no need to think about mortality or blood or death.

***

In an attempt to keep getting to know one another, Loki and Nat had made plans to go and watch one of the indie films showing at the local theater, figuring that if it was absolutely terrible, at least they didn’t have to suffer alone. Afterwards, and this was the part that got Natasha’s stomach all twisted up with excitement, they were going back to his place. Clint, Darcy, and Skye all knew about it, knew the rough address where he was staying (just on the offhand chance that something happened), so Nat wasn’t feeling too nervous about it as they headed back from the theater. As expected, the movie had been a bust, more hilarious to the pair of them than it ought to have been given the nasty looks they’d received. Natasha was in too good a mood to care much. She’d been hoping to get a look at his place for some time, and while they’d talked about his lack of a coffin, she was still expecting something a little out of the ordinary.

Loki looked to be on cloud nine, his eyes bright, hand in hers as they strolled down the street. He was trying not to rush, and though she appreciated it, she was certainly more than excited to get to see where it was he lived. He was a vampire, there had to be something spooky about the place. Maybe a lack of mirrors, or crosses. Thick black curtains and a refrigerator filled with blood mixed in his coffee order came to mind, no matter how ridiculous it really sounded when she thought good and hard about it. Still, her curiosity wouldn’t shut up, and she all but bounded up to the building once he pointed it out. Outwardly it wasn’t anything special, and it was damn close to the coffeeshop, which at least did give him a good reason to come to the shop all the time. Easy enough to explain if the others ever asked. She took a couple steps ahead of him, grinning broadly, as she looked back and leaned against his door. 

“You seem chipper, given that the film was terrible,” Loki teased her, stepping up to kiss her slowly on the lips, taking his time with it. 

She wasn’t complaining, or going anywhere really, running her tongue over his incisors. He shivered and gasped into her mouth, his hands finding her hips and holding her tight enough to bruise. Nat couldn’t help but moan as he did, grinding her hips against his, before pulling out of his hands altogether but not without some difficulty. 

“C’mon. I wanna see where the scary vampire puts his head every morning.” She winked and, with the keys she’d snagged from his pocket, pressed them to the lock and turned it. He had his front up snug against her back before she could hardly breathe, his cock pressed hard to her ass. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he teased. 

She pressed back against him. “You adore me.”

“So true.” 

With ease, she undid the lock and stepped inside, her hand finding the light switch with the ease of someone who knew enough about apartments to guess where it was, and stopped just a few short steps past the doorway. Loki did the exact same, and she felt him tighten behind her. In front of them stood a man, if he could be called that. Perhaps giant was a more apt description, given that he was enormously built, tall, and with dark blue eyes the color of the sky before a storm. Even without Natasha being anything . . . well, outside of human, she knew there was something wrong with him. Something wrong with this. Loki had never once discussed a roommate, and getting into the house without having disrupted the lock? Waiting for them? 

Even before he flashed his teeth she had an inkling, and she shivered as Loki pulled her out and behind him. The blond’s grin only widened. “Hello, brother. Glad to see you brought a snack.”


End file.
